Field Poppies
by LePetitPappillon
Summary: Feliks seemed to adore his company, constantly flirting and slapping their mounds together, as though they were meant to become one solid mass. Perhaps that was the reason why he looked so miserable when they fell apart; it was supposed to last forever.
1. Chapter 1

The man stood within that ocean, heart in a blunder, eyes out reaching to the legion before those worn shoes. The little crimson flowers devoured everything. His venerable leather, his logic, his attention, his core, now bleeding upon his ribs in an unforgiving deluge. Lips gaped. He had slit the throats of all their fond memories, and this is where those poor stupid entities ran. Then they bled out, painting field poppies with their hue. The same poppies that once engulfed the two forms of the ones who birthed them, the pretty gods who were too frequently stacked upon a marble pedestal.

He should have known.

He should have known.

Now the sullen blade grew heavy with the life of all he had lost, all that was tossed into that wild conflagration that claimed their lives. The same conflagration that was set by his own weary palms and an abundance of oil. The flames kicked to the sky as though they had eaten explosives, devoured gunpowder and sent that staggering warmth to the star's shivering grasps.

Now, there he was, amongst the army of angry red poppies, feeling guilty because he did not feel guilty. Remorse rising from the black ashes of his own foul disregard. There should have been an ill feeling; there should have been an unending sorrow and the resolve to solve each of those sallow injuries, committed upon either side of that pristine white fence.

But emotion cannot be pulled out from a corpse's skull. The inanimate simply cannot feel. Sentiment is not bound to dust.

Simply, that once passionate heart had been yanked out and gutted long before now.

It would not have been entirely his chaotic mistake. No. Not wholly. It did not start upon his end. He did not craft the misery required to do such a deed. Why ever should there be overtaking anguish when the fault was not entirely his to hold?

It begun with a Polish man.

Always, it did.

The Lithuanian closed his eyes, his grassy green eyes, and he considered the catalyst.

Her.


	2. Chapter 2

Their lips melded together, as though icing was dousing that sweetened pastry, coding it within sugar dressing it inside a creamy pearl coat. It was slow, and it was lavish. In fact, that entire event was not coherent in the least.

They had only just begun. A few days ago. Truly.

It began with a Polish man.

Always, it did.

This time, the one in question was a charming blond thing with fertile eyes bursting with the entire world, and all its milk and honey. He had gorgeous lips, plump and supple, blushing as a fresh peach against the tree. That great fall of golden locks, straight and shimmering, kissed to his shoulders, and those cheeks blossomed as a grand crimson rose within its wondrous prime.

The Lithuanian could not honestly assign this strange and beautiful creature a gender. It was lovely; it spoke flamboyantly; it lacked a womanly form, yet had womanly attributes. However, it wore the clothing of a gentleman.

It was loud.

It was sassy.

It sucked you in and spit you out.

"Your name is Toris, isn't it?"

"Yes…And you're Feliks, aren't you?"

That smile was far larger than the sun, and twice as bright. "Your accent is so sweet. They sent me a handsome man." Something coy was lucid within those emerald wells, as though the entire destiny of the poor volunteer was soon to be decided with narrow thought.

"I'm sorry…But are you a man?"

The strange being did not claim offence, instead, a boisterous laughter boomed about the room. "Yes, yes. Of course." A smooth, smooth purchase claimed upon the poor victim's visage. The widow had spun its illustrious web, and already, that foolish insect had been caught within its silk. The mastermind was setting up an extravagant trap and it wore happy lips and rosy flesh.

That crux fluttered as the wings of a nervous butterfly.

"I'm going to like you. No. Actually, I already do. You're adorable. Tell me, Toris. Did you learn all that Polish just for me?"

"Well…I thought it would be far easier to communicate if I spoke Polish. I was told you're quite a busy person, so I decided to utilize my free time for something productive."

Again, that amazing beam seduced the entire chamber, bending it backward and afflicting it with a kiss. "Thank you. I tried to learn Lithuanian, but I had forgotten all of it. Perhaps you can assist me. Quite obviously, you're an intelligent man. Tell me, are you excited to be here?"

"Oh well, at the moment, I'm somewhat scrambled. It's been a lot of work and nonsense to transfer all my things from one place to another. But I'm certain I'll be more alive and ecstatic, once I get decent rest."

"Oh, of course! Of course! I had completely forgotten about all that. You see, I was so happy to have some _decent_ company; I've been shaking all day! Oh! I'm so rude! Let me show you to your room, and then we'll have something to eat."

The poor unsuspecting one was grasped by the wrist and taken along that wondrous place, the ornate halls and many different chambers lining the entire estate. There were lavish paintings and embellished decorations, ornaments littering that wonderland in a sort of organized chaos. Those curious wells drank of that magnanimous home as the Polish man spoke on and on of how much the other would simply _adore_ it there.

And after that great and monstrous pile of beauty and speaking, Toris was taken through a fantastic threshold and given to a world of comfort and convenience.

"They told me you enjoyed books, so I had my servants take a shelf from the library and place it here. I picked out some of my most favored stories and put them in your collections. Do you love it? Oh, please say that you do."

"It's incredibly nice."

Toris drank of the room as though it was fine wine. The silken bed sheets, the curtains of a perfect azure hue. The bookshelf, tall and magnificent as a tower, the rug, made of a soft fur, and then the walls, saturated in a pleasing and grassy hue. They were ornamented in paintings.

Then, that mind drifted from that large window pane and flew back to all the times he and Feliks had truly spoken. He was told of the duty; they would work beneath the very same roof, and all the mundane and terrible planning that was bound to such a grueling event. There was so much to be done, so suddenly, the man's life was occupied by that very day. Each and every moment, something was attributed to the Polish man and their off and hasty bond. Toris learned Polish. He sent his things to the other's grounds; he gave small trinkets of both politeness and protocol. He signed entire stacks of papers, making that happening something official and tangible.

It was almost something of an arranged marriage.

How ridiculous.

Toris had met that strange entity a few times previously, but it was never something more than an ephemeral passing. They shook hands, but no attention was sacrificed for the other. It was just an obligatory greeting and forced gesture. Those faux pleasantries were shipped away by the boat loads. You could find them within a shop, if you looked hard enough.

So, the two men had _truly_ just met. That was something of a pushed necessity as well. Now they were required to work together. Now they were required to become companions. Now they had to be civil.

Feliks certainly had no trouble with the act.

Was everyone he came into contact with kissed directly on the mouth?

Or was he simply one of the fortunate ones?

"Do you like the color of this room, Toris? I can have it changed, if you find it distasteful."

"No, no. That's quite alright. It's truly fine."

"Truly?" The blond man's voice shrank to near silence. "I didn't really like the color of it; it was the wrong sort of green. But as long as you find it suitable."

"Oh, yes. Don't trouble yourself. It's a very nice area." A subtle pause. "But, ah…Where are the things I sent? My clothing and all of that?"

"Those were put away yesterday, actually." Feliks arrived at the foot of a dark oaken wardrobe and pulled it open. "Here are all your garments and all the rest of your items are either set up around the room or in this suitcase here…" Feliks pointed to a lovely container kept at the bottom of that gargantuan piece. "If you need anything, let me know. We'll eat dinner soon; would you like to rest?"

"Yes, please. That would be lovely."

"Then I'll let you sleep. I'm sure you're exhausted." That odd Polish man came to the porthole, looking to Toris as though a weighty thought was lodged within his throat. But in a flash he turned from the chamber, saying gently, "Good night."

"Good night." Even though the sun had only just began to set.

Toris was seduced by fantasy the moment his weary back pressed upon those luxurious covers. Blatant disbelief could not even rip him from those dreams. Even on such a momentous day, the man devoured repose as a beggar to the feast.

And within that faux reality, the whole world was stamped with consideration. A seal printed about every brow willing to wonder close enough, after being stripped and analyzed and signed. It was how he thought. Read, consider, sign. Read, consider, sign. Read, consider, sign.

Sleep.

Sometime he was too busy for it.

Toris reawaked when that same kiss inserted a cloud of steam into his rushing mind. For some odd reason his mouth complied. Eyes peeled open to find the culprit.

They stared at one another.

"Dinner is ready."

Another touch.

The poor Lithuanian decided not to ask, no matter how odd it was. Feliks likely kissed everyone. Yes. Yes. He was simply eccentric.

"Come along, won't you?"

It was difficult not to ask.

"Yes."

Either traveled about those golden halls, and the Lithuanian's belly ached for nourishment as well as home. Here he was, within wonderland, kissed by another man who he did not even know. How could it be? There was not enough time to prepare himself. Not even the months they had given him were enough to create readiness for such an embellished existence. And goodness, what a strange Polish man he had found.

Those words tasted far too odd against his buds.

But it was alright, he told himself. For all things new need an adjustment period. All things new needed to grow pleasant.

Suddenly, Toris found himself at a table, drowning beneath delicacies. Stew. Bread. Wine. Meat. Everything. You could ask that table for anything at all in the entire world and readily, it would supply.

"I wanted to make your first night here memorable. You like these things, don't you?"

"Yes. Everything looks delicious. Thank you."

"Of course. But you don't need to thank me. Thank all of those poor chefs. Well, let's eat. Your stomach must be empty."

So, they sat and ate; mostly silent all except for the blond man's occasional chatter; a need to fill that quiet void. Feliks enjoyed art. Beautiful dresses. The color pink. He was considering repainting the entire estate to be more aesthetically pleasing. He also enjoyed playing chess, and his favorite animals were ponies. There was a small collection of them outside.

Toris gathered this strange creature enjoyed talking. Frequently. And quickly. It asked a lot of questions too. And it had a lot of comments.

They seemed to be a good match for one another. The loud and flamboyant one, then, the silent and collected one. Feliks spoke and Toris listened. Then Feliks would listen when Toris spoke, and think of something to say and say it. Then Toris found himself listening again.

But the Lithuanian did not mind. It was all a grand part of being a calm and level headed individual. You listened more than you spoke. You thought and considered for more than you simply _did_. Never impulsive. Never rash. _Never. _

Perhaps t was fortunate they were such grand opposites. From those first few minutes together, they seemed to bond well. Just as red and blue.

Well. Only if you like purple.

Feliks slapped his hand on the table in a conclusive thought.

Toris dropped his fork.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course." The shock filtered away from the Lithuanian's core. "What is it?"

"Would you like to be friends? I've been alone in this big, stupid house for far too long and I would love to be your companion. If you would like to be friends, perhaps tomorrow, after all our work, I can show you Poland. I'm sure you'd like to see more than just this mansion."

"Yes, that sounds lovely. It would be easier if we were friends, wouldn't it?"

"So, you do want me to show you around?"

"Please. I'd love to see where I am."

"Wonderful!" That twisted creature simpered, infecting that poor stupid man with a kind of adrenaline. His heart cried, and something possessed his mounds as well.

Was he happy?

Perhaps this was the seed planted deep into black soil.

They went to bed, and they slept soundly in a forest of dreams, dreams that birthed poppies.

The seed sprouted, that little green head conversing with earth that once layered it. Chance burst into the sky. And the universe was no longer so very dank.


	3. Chapter 3

Toris awoke with breathe in his lungs. All of this excitement made his heart function. It was speaking with his ribs, complaining of the writhing his stomach. 'Why does that stupid thing keep screaming that way? It's irritating.'

The room was lovely in the morning. The bright summer rays kissed his flesh, warming that skin as well as a lover. Tangled brown hair curled upon his cheeks. Something had been renewed. Perhaps his crux. It was inert only the day the day before yesterday.

Toris dressed himself in green.

It was not often he wore green. Always, it was grey, or black or white Sometimes a blackened blue. But never green. Today would be a day worth committing to memory. That very soul told him it would be.

Somehow, the Lithuanian found where that ornate dining room was again, locating his sudden companion, who was eating from a bowl of healthy strawberries.

"Have you been waiting here a long time, Feliks?"

"No, not at all."

Toris could tell that the Polish man was simply trying to be polite, his own plate remaining void and unscathed by any nourishment. He had been snatching strawberries, hoping no one would notice those little fruits were missing from their pretty home, amongst all their brothers and sisters.

"You could have eaten if you wanted to."

"No. As I said, I haven't been here all too long."

"Oh, well…Thank you then, I suppose." The bowl told a far different truth.

Toris took his place amongst the blond man, a few of those berries occupying his once virgin plate.

"You have to try some of these, they're wonderful."

"Thank you."

It was then breakfast began, and Feliks filled his porcelain with the abundance presented, almost all of it grown from the trees and bushes. There were eggs as well. One could clearly see the adoration this creature held for fruit.

"We have to attend to some business, but it shouldn't take all too long. If we begin after breakfast, there shouldn't be any reason we won't be able to spend a few hours together."

The Lithuanian man donned a single nod, allowing one of those sugared buds upon his tongue.

They ate in silence a moment.

"...May I ask you something?"

"Of course, Feliks."

"Well, will you tell me about yourself? What do you enjoy doing? Do you like any animals or colors or anything at all?"

A genuine time dissolved n thought, saturation thick as honey. "I enjoy reading, I think. Sometimes I write poetry and things of that nature, when I'm not completely busy. But I seem to be occupied all the time. As for animals and colors, I can't be sure. I've never really thought about it."

"Truly? Well, perhaps you would like horses or dogs or perhaps something smaller, like a cat." The Polish man touched the other's garment gently. "And you like the color green, I think. It looks very nice on you."

"I like green?"

"Yes. You like green. Perhaps you don't know it, but you do. And your eyes are green. Just like mine."

Toris observed his other's glassy emerald orbs a long moment. How deep they were. How they cried of the abysmal hues of summer. The grass. The healthy trees. The fields and fields of furtive life. The sun beaming upon all those features. The face of the earth bathing within gold.

Perhaps Feliks was the sun, as well as the soil. There was brightness to him. An abundant beam within an azure plain.

Such light and feathery hair.

"Oh, yes. We do have the same color eyes."

Those shapely lips stretched as t their sides; their color the shade of strawberries.

Feliks is a _man_, Toris.

Why be so naïve?

Fool.

"You know, they sent me a painting of you."

"Did they?"

"Yes…" A miniature trinket was taken from the blond man's garments, surrendered to the gentle hands of the opposite. "It's very little, for some reason. But I didn't mind it. Sometimes smaller things are easier to appreciate.

"Yes, most certainly." The locket was pried open by soft pads. "Such little things are hard to create."

Then Toris was met with a smaller image of himself. Something told him it had been examined a thousand times over. He could see the welds upon his cheeks made by the other's gaze, those smart wells studying each feature of that visage, considering so heavily the physiognomy. His well formed frame, his window tinted to such a contemplative hue. His nose. His lips. That neck. Every one of those formations.

Toris remembered posing for that painting; however, it was not so small. A normal canvas was utilized for that portrait. The artist must have created a more miniscule edition. The original was mounted upon his wall, back in that old palace home.

That lonely home.

The trinket was stowed away. And then breakfast went on, until either man had grown full and were forced to drift into that office chamber, two desks set next to one another. Here, all the work would be done.

Just as it was only days passed.

Yes. Back to the old regime.

"I'm sure you know how this all works; the papers. Do I need to explain?"

"Oh, no. I've been doing this job so long. Are we expected to write reports as well?"

"Yes, but only about the very important things. Oh. You're aware of all the rules. Let me know if you come across something that requires my signature as well. I've seen a few pieces that asked for yours, so they're kept in that stack…" That exact finger referred to a grand pile upon the Lithuanian's bureau.

"Oh, alright. I'll get right to it."

"Wonderful. I'm looking forward to working with you."

"The very same to you."

So the first day of documents began.

It was just like all that occupation always was. Read. Sign. Make notes. Write suggestions. Read sign. Notes. Suggestions. Take a short break to save sanity. Read. Sign. Notes. Suggestions. Don't let your mind wander. Day dreaming is for those who still have souls.

It seemed ridiculous that so much of their lives were dictated by these papers. By this job.

Now, two men were brought together at its beckoning. A relationship built in the sky by bricks heavy as stone.

And after so many wretched hours, when the sun scarred the sky's brow, Feliks took Toris by the arm, forcing him to drop his pen upon those pretty manila sheets.

"I'm done."

"You've finished?"

"God, no! My poor mind is going to burst if I don't stop. It's too much. Don't you feel the same?"

"Yes, I do."

"Good. Then we should go outside and work later. It's a lovely day today."

Toris supplied an affirmative nod of the head and the pair was off, running downstairs, running through doors, blasting into the sunshine.

The whole world was golden and green.

"Would you like to walk, Toris? We can always see the town tomorrow."

"Well…Whatever you like."

"Then we'll walk."

So they walked, the Polish man leading the way.

Truly, there was no room for word. Either just observed that happy and blossoming land as tough they had wondered within the Garden of Eden and the entire world had been saturated within those glorious golden blooms. The roses were the reddest; the sun the hue of a fresh buttercup, the entirety of that area was luscious and fraught within wonder and pigmentation.

Toris was joyous at their election to walk.

After an innumerable amount of steps, the man came to a luxurious field of bright crimson poppies, those flowers staring at that orb within the clouds as though it was something utterly rare and indescribable. The God amongst the flowers. And like the petals, Feliks occupied the field beneath him, glancing into the crisp sunlight.

Toris joined him, not finding any reason to oppose that wordless gesture.

Syllables were not forced into exchange. The pair only wallowed within their happy field, poppies flattened beneath their weight, glancing into that sky littered in pleasant and fat little clouds, healthy as fresh cotton.

The Lithuanian found joy within his veins. He found his heart to be speaking. He found his cheeks to be reddening. Was this friendship? They had barely known one another, and yet, they lied within this handsome garden, speechless and floating all at the same time.

There was an odd sort of bond between them. Souls conversing in a sort of unknown tongue. Yet, everything was comprehended with a degree of perfection.

Or was it only Feliks who felt that way?

He glanced to his companion to find his eyes shut and his mouth rounded.

Yes. There was content within him as well.

And as though obeying an order, Toris took that strong palm for his own, their fingers twining and their flesh kissing and simmering at the very same instance.

Satisfaction ate their stomachs.

Somehow, all was well.

So they relished in their temporary peace, something found so seldom and valuable as a grand diamond.


	4. Chapter 4

Days progressed. The remainder of that area and that grand estate seemed to become more of a home. The Polish man administered more of those honeyed touches, as though there was nothing more common than a passionate kiss.

It a greeting.

Hello. Good-bye. How do you do?

Kiss. Smooch. Peck.

Good morning.

Good afternoon.

Goodnight.

The servants would snicker at them. Feliks would press their lips together without any warning whatsoever. They would find one another in the hall way and Feliks would devour his prey. Then run, laughing.

And for some off reason, Toris did not mind.

Usually, there would be some sort of protest within his throat, a breath or a voice, but no. He was simply dumbfounded every single time, as if it was the first.

Somehow, it was. The blond knew how to kiss a thousand different ways. Each was astounding and strange and flavored. Feliks was a rose opening, all those gorgeous dew soaked petals exposed to the light.

With each day, he drew nearer.

A spider to the insect caught within the silk.

One morning, Toris awoke to that twisted entity within his sheets, tucked beneath them as though they were his own.

Somehow, the brunette was not even surprised.

No. No. He had prepared himself for something such as this. For this moment. For this man.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Toris. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes I did. How did you sleep?"

"Well…" The blond sat up, exposing that pretty figure drenched in a milky night gown. "I wasn't able to go to sleep at first. I felt lonely. So I came in here, wondering if you were having the same trouble, but you were just fine. So I simply lied down and within only a few minutes, I was nearly unconscious. It calms me, I think. To be near you. My mind stops racing and I can be comfortable."

"Is that why you kiss me so often?"

"No. You're handsome. A bit irresistible" Lips pulled. "Do you mind it? I suppose I should have asked you first, before simply doing as I pleased. Sometimes it's difficult-for me. I tend to lose my mind when I'm near something beautiful. Pretty clothes. A nice home. Someone so lovely…" That figure sunk beneath the ruined ocean of fabric lining the gorgeous bed. The God closed his deep glassy eyes. "I'm sorry, Toris." Then sight opened, to hypnotize the other.

"That's alright…I like your kisses. I just didn't understand why I had earned such an abundance of them."

That smile.

"May I embrace you? Perhaps?"

"Yes. If you like." Toris lifted the heavy sheets allotting for movement. The intruder came as a thief to diamonds, enveloping that poor victim in sugared limbs. Feliks settled into the Lithuanian's body as though they were two pieces of an identical puzzle, crafted for one another. All of Toris' empty chambers were satiated.

How nice it was to be close to another.

The immigrant relished within that sweet warmth.

"I was so lonely, before you came…" The Polish man spoke in hushed tones. "I was looking forward to your arrival for a very long time, Toris. Awaiting a holiday that was scheduled years away. And now you're here." Pliable mounds sought flesh. "I can't tell you how nice it is to have someone near me…You don't even seem to mind this."

"Do most others?"

"I haven't gotten so near to many others…Not in such a short time."

There was no phrase upon Toris' buds. Only mal formed thoughts.

And so suddenly, that mouth was offered occupation. Skin touched, soft pink devouring those poor unsuspecting formations.

There was an embellished deluge of passion. Those serpents coaxed from their taverns and winding together as the coils of an extensive braid. Saliva was shared, either party feasting upon one another as an exquisite platter. Those organs pushed and slid past one another. Fighting. Battling. Debating. Embracing.

Then so suddenly, they separated.

Then they stared.

"Hmm." A brief touch. "I knew you would be a good lover. I might require a little more than just a taste." Those hands touched to the Lithuanian's poor, defenseless collar. "But for now, I'll dress. Good-bye, darling."

"Good-bye…"

Well that was odd.

The perplexed man rose from those sheets and clothed that body, racing with blood and sentiment.

It was the same the very next morning.

But the polish man was closer.

"Good morning, Toris."

"Good morning, Feliks."

"May I tell you something about myself?"

"I suppose so. I have ears, don't I?"

"Yes…Let's just hope they work well." Those mounds twisted while eyes conveyed another message. "Well, would you still like me if I told you…Told you I enjoy wearing women's clothing?"

"Women's clothing?"

"Yes. I love gowns. They're so lovely and comfortable." Lips convulsed. "I didn't want to make you feel odd in my presence, so I've dressed normally, but I've elected to tell you, because well. You have a right to know, since we live beneath the same roof."

Toris calculated all he was told. "Feliks, I wouldn't mind it if you wore a gown. I'm in no place to tell you what you can and can't dress in. If you feel more comfortable within a gown, then that's what you should wear. I don't see why we couldn't be friends. You're not damaging anyone."

Again, the sun beamed. The flowers bloomed and the birds sang.

"How sweet you are. How kind!" The eccentric thing arose from the wondrous plain of dreams. "We're going to be the best of friends, and I'm going to love you! Today, you will have a wonderful day! I'll make sure of it!"

Then, the shooting star shot across the sky.

The hapless creature's heart beat fast as a drum.

Feliks was not at breakfast. He was not within their work room. He was nowhere to be found. So Toris labored inside that mangled silence. Signing, contemplating, lonely.

All his tasks had been completed, that entire stack marked with his haphazard signature. Letters brandishing everything. Feliks had been excited. That hand even more flamboyant than it normally was.

It was not until supper that the Lithuanian saw his fresh companion, a grand package sitting across from him.

The moment Toris sat down it was pushed toward him, a blissful grin of euphoria drawn about that whimsical canvas.

"I'm sorry I've been gone, Toris. But I needed to get you a gift."

"Oh, you didn't need to do that."

"Of course I did…Please. Open it."

So, those curious hands pulled away the shimmering green paper, careful not to maim its pretty flesh. The thing itself was lovely. Guilt almost struck at the coming destruction. And past that skin was a chest. An ebony container, complete with a golden clasp and carved designs.

"Open the lid…" The demand was soft.

The top came from the body.

Soil devoured the base, seeds kept within a pile at one corner. The earth was back and beautiful, just as corpse it came inside.

Toris glanced to his counterpart, found the sweat lacing his brow, found the pink within his visage. Found the gleam between his blond lashes.

No wonder he was gone all day.

This took quite a time to gather.

"I thought you could use something lovely for your window sill. All you need to do is water them frequently, and keep them in the sun. Do you like it?"

"Yes. Thank you. It's wonderful." Toris gave a genuine curl of the lips. It was an odd present. But it was good; wrapped inside all its earthy beauty and shined intention.

The Polish man's entire zenith went inside that chest.

An embrace was certainly earned.

Euphoria entered the atmosphere, as sun though a fortress of saddened clouds. Feliks had infected Toris with blatant affection for all things benevolent. The Lithuanian's acceptance and Feliks' pulsing core.

He was happy, so he thanked that new arrival.

Yes. They would become the best of friends.

It was evident.


	5. Chapter 5

It was then that things had become strange. Well. _Stranger._

"Toris, will you come look at something?"

He was simply walking down the hall of those bedchambers, and from the Polish man's suite came the cry.

It shook him; somewhat. Had Feliks simply been yelling, waiting for him to pass by, or had he simply _known_ his companion was outside, doing nothing in particular. The estate was far too large to hear a stray sound. Toris could have been anywhere at all, and it was highly plausible Feliks' voice would never penetrate his ear.

But it had.

"Oh, of course."

The insect was wrapped tighter within the spider's silk.

Toris came into Feliks' space.

And what he found was something both amazing and shocking, but utterly expected as well. An anomaly no one thought possible but was expecting all at the same instance.

The blond was layered within a gown.

It was off and beautiful.

"Hello, Toris." Those blossoming cheeks were soaked within a kind of shy pigmentation. That wretched smile churned into something utterly pleasing. "What do you think?"

Those intelligent green eyes overtook the figure before them, studying that grand mass of pearl hued fabric. It was as most other dresses, but there were little red buds sewn all about that frame, as well as ribbons stitched in throughout the bottom. It was fantastic, with long sleeves and such a wondrous cluster of happy poppies. His lips were pinker than usual.

The man had become something of an artistic statement.

"You look lovely, Feliks."

"Truly?"

"Yes, truly. I like all your flowers. It's a nice touch."

The entire Polish man lit up as a gorgeous and intense flame.

"Oh, thank you."

"Where did you find such a garment anyway?"

"Well…I designed it. I send in pictures of gowns I'd like to have, after I draw them, my tailors have it put together in a short amount of time. I could design an outfit for you as well, Toris. If you'd like something."

"Would it have to be a gown?"

"No! No…Not at all. I can make up men's clothing as well. Unless you'd like a gown, then it would be no problem for me." A coy sort of curve. "Would you mind if I showed you another dress? Just to get your opinion?"

"Certainly."

"Oh, thank you. You're so kind, Toris."

And that free spirit was off, back into the wardrobe, stripping in secret and placing new silks against his form.

There were mauve dresses, emerald dresses, scarlet dresses, azure dresses, aurous dresses, dresses the hue of the sun, dresses the hue of _sunset_, and a plethora of pink dresses. For all occasions. For all times of the day. For always. Always, always pink.

Somehow, the Lithuanian was hardly surprised. That great conflagration of sweet flamboyancy was expected to be colored pink.

Yellow and Green. Pink.

"Do you like this one as well?"

"Feliks, I think I've liked all of them." Somehow, that man was not becoming impatient or irritated. That fashion show was entertaining to say the least. His companion was not so difficult upon the sight. "Was that all of your gowns?"

"Oh heavens no! If I tried on all of my gowns, we'd be here for days. And my body is somewhat sore as it is…" The perpetual grin. "But I don't mean to complain. I love to try on clothing." For a moment, the ribbon was stolen from the blond man's tresses and that shimmering deluge fell about his shoulders, only to be tied up briefly; Feliks had fixed his hair. "Would you like to do anything else today, Toris? I think you should be able to choose our next activity."

"Well…" The man glanced to the window, noticing the burnt pigmentation of the buckling sun. "Would you want to go outside?"

"Dressed like this? I would have to change."

"Why? You look fine."

"What? No, no. I would frighten someone. A man wearing a woman's garment? They would laugh, wouldn't they?"

"Feliks, who is 'they'? It's nearly night time. No one will see you, so no one can laugh."

"I suppose so."

"Come now, Feliks. You know I'm right."

"Well…Fine. I'll go. But if someone does laugh at me, you'll have to wear a gown all of tomorrow, so you best be certain."

"I am, I swear. So, we'll leave."

Feliks grinned and stole his opposite's hand, and they traveled outside, beneath those stretching clouds.

It was another sweetened trip, another peaceful journey about the brief country side. Toris focused upon the stretching canvas above them. Feliks focused upon Toris.

What a kind man.

What a good soul.

What a handsome face.

What a wonderful body.

The hand was gripped even tighter.

Feliks felt as a young girl in love, swooning over a man, losing her core within his gorgeous eyes. Mind dissolving inside his acidic compliments. It had only been a few days, and already, the man was something delirious. Stupid and drunken upon a sudden love. Or perhaps it was lust. Perhaps it was both.

Those emotions were so shredded and raw, one could not label them. It just _was._ Colors blending together to create an entirely new shade.

They walked together, landing within that grand vat of tall poppies and regarding the moon as it subdued the sky. Fingers kissed. Palms embraced and lashes met lashes as either man was caught inside a dream.

They slept until the morning came, grass caught within their scalps and red buds leaving kisses upon their clothes. Then they walked back home, happy and ridiculous and far too euphoric for another day at work.

But it was alright. Anything could be accomplished with the void of lonesomeness contained at bay.


	6. Chapter 6

Toris lied limp within his bed, gems lidded and mouth well shut. He was not asleep, but certainly not awake either. It was a state in between the two, delusional logic infecting the mind.

He thought of Feliks.

Feliks in his bright dresses. Feliks with his bright green eyes. Feliks with that bright yellow hair. Feliks with the soft pink lips.

But Feliks was a man.

Toris knew this.

Yet, that did not seem to stop them from placing their faces together and pressing their mouths against one another's. It was not until long after their brief performances that Toris realized he had just kissed another male.

Yet, despite that grand enlightenment, nothing seared guilt into his core. There no internal writhing. No mangled organs churning into themselves because of such an inconvenient sentiment. Eyes did not water. The mouth did not desiccate. There was no choking.

In all actuality, Toris was joyous. Before, his life had been only work. The man committed to holding a pen and paper at every hour. Sights committed only to those words brandishing the page, burning holes upon such lovely parchment. Occasionally, Toris forced himself to go to one of those celebrations, despite taking some time from his wretched tasks. But he never enjoyed them. Never. Always, They were far too obnoxious and wretched. The attendants he met, he never liked and no one truly seemed to take a delight in his presence. Toris was the wrong piece to the wrong puzzle.

Sometimes, yearning for another occupation came.

Any occupation. So long as it was better than the one at hand.

But now, happiness drugged the servant. Certainly, Feliks did not mind his company. He seemed to adore it, constantly flirting and slapping their mounds together, as though they were meant to become one solid mass. Perhaps that was the reason why he looked so miserable when they fell apart. It was supposed to last forever.

But did the Lithuanian love his other? It seemed ludicrous how very quickly time expired. One moment, he is caught within the possessive grip of a new start, and so suddenly, he finds himself within an even needier grasp.

Feliks.

And the emotions regarding this entity were unclear, a hopeless cluster of wire and thorns. None could pry apart that coil. Too many had bled to death in attempt.

So the brunette accepted those crimson soaked edges as though they were something of a sparkling gift. As though he was given a choice.

It was far too perplexing. Far too much.

So the Lithuanian sighed and sunk within that vat of comfort.

Should he like other men?

Should he hoard such thoughts?

Should he so consistently press his lips to the other's?

Should he feel guilty?

Should he feel nothing at all?

Should he let that lovely white dove form its cage?

What exactly _was_ this? And why ever was it so difficult? Just look at them! It had only been days. And he had already lost count.

The Polish man was an opiate.

There was no logic within the wonderland that surrounded that blond. Only honey and sugar and the blaring color pink.

And a heart full of unadulterated affection.

That too, was a confection.

Goodness, what was a man to do?

Well, Toris most certainly did not know, so he slept, wasted the little free time he held and tarnished it with his nonsensical reality. Drowned minutes inside thoughts thick as molasses and strangled what intelligence remained.

That figure was submerged within fantasy.

Even there, he could not evade the Polish man.

Well.

It would resolve itself, wouldn't it?


	7. Chapter 7

The Polish man regarded his visage within the mirror, brushing out his long blond locks, tying a ribbon around them at the nape of his neck. Pinching his cheeks; adjusting that luxurious gown.

Was he lovely enough?

The creature moved across those grand halls, greeting the occasional servant that passed by, having a brief conversation, moving onwards. Past the portraits and the vases and whatever else there was.

It was dark now, and the Lithuanian was submerged within sheets, likely dreaming. Or perhaps not. Feliks was simply not ready for bed himself- keeping the fabrics around him he had been wearing the last set of hours.

Those too, were pink.

It made the model feel beautiful, wrapped in lace and silk. In such a garment, the wearer cannot be ugly. It was simply impossible, to appear beastly in something so delicate and soft.

Even if you were a man.

Those thoughts shifted back into the one within the bed.

They had had a lovely day, exchanging pleasantries and kindness. Building their friendship from a seed within the rich black earth. It was only just spouting, a green bud poking from the ground and suckling upon the sun as a child to its bottle.

How easy it all was. The sky had been wrought with shine ever since Toris had arrived. It was a sign. It simply had to be. The hours were too joyous to blame upon nothing; a mere chance.

No. God had _sent_ Toris.

Such grand fortune did not occur on its own.

That door squealed.

Gently, the flank was alleviated from its frame and the darkness was revealed.

"Toris?" Feliks spoke within a whisper, voice soft and careful.

"Yes?" The response was both quiet and alive. "Do you need something?"

"Oh, no…I just didn't feel like going to bed. So I came to say hello. That is, if you were unable to sleep as well. I won't bother you if you're truly exhausted."

"Well, I'm quite awake." The sheets spoke, their noise kind. They welcomed their blond, who seemed to reside there so many nights, their hide belonged to him as well.

"Would you mind if I joined you?"

"No. Do I usually?" There was mirth at the Polish man's miniature folly. The bed was made accessible, those fabrics moving to allow the other in.

Feliks stole his place.

Immediately, comfort welled up within his blood.

Those pretty lips curved.

"You're very kind, Toris. I'm glad you're here."

The Lithuanian was uncertain of what exactly to say. "That's far too sweet, Feliks. Besides, I'm the one that should be glad."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well…We get along well, don't we?" The clockwork was turning within the brunette's mind. "I was worried that we would dislike one another when arrived here, but I know now that it's nothing to be concerned about. I'm quite happy we seem to go so well together. At least, I think so."

"I think so too…And I agree with you. I was so afraid you would dislike me for being so strange."

"You aren't strange, Feliks." The lie left an odd taste upon the tongue.

"Oh, _darling._ You don't need to be so kind. Believe me; I'm aware of my strangeness. Men don't normally wear dresses; I know. I'm simply relieved I can be exactly who I am in your presence. There's nothing worse than acting as something you are not."

"I can understand that. But it must become very difficult after a while. Almost as though you're constantly wearing a coat to cover up something. But it could never be removed. That would make anyone ludicrous, I'm sure."

"Yes. That's exactly how it is. So you can understand why I'm happy to be accepted."

"Of course. It's important not to make others uncomfortable, especially about who they are. You're a gentle person, so why would I use my time to be unnecessarily cruel? That would be foolish."

Feliks did not keep word inside his mouth; instead, his arms came around his counterpart, drawing that hapless thing in nearer. "This is why I like you so well. Your heart is good."

It was then their lips touched.

It was then tongues tied together in sweetened knots.

It was then hearts fluttered within their cages.

It was then a deep crimson infected those visages.

It was then they expressed their cruxes.

"Toris…"

Buds brushed past one another; orifices spoke softly by touch; hands gripped upon either pair of garments, the gown and the robe.

The Polish man's hands traveled all about the other's form, attempting to collect flesh through thin white fabric. He caught the other's tongue between his mounds. He suckled upon it lightly. He closed it eyes. He savored it.

Toris made a soft noise of pleasure.

Could one truly do such a thing? And how was that organ caught with such ease?

Once the brunette was set free, their war returned, and the pair rolled, Toris caught beneath Feliks, who loved him just as a woman would. His arms wrapped around that oddly slender waist, holding the sudden lover at a cozy proximity.

He was almost certain the blond could feel that erection beneath that thin article. They were so very near. Did he mind? After all, he was the one brining about that boiling reaction. Perhaps Feliks felt the same sort of explosion as well.

For a brief minute, they ceased, the blond seizing the grand opportunity to remove the other's cover. The cotton peeled from his flesh, as a snake trying in desperation to remove that itchy hide when so much else lied beneath it.

The acquired skin crumpled upon the floor, coiling as an animal freshly wounded.

Then, Feliks ceased, admiring his prize. The strange entity dismounted, sight rolling over that form bathed in moon light, his soft features. His perfect anatomy. The poor lonely thing between his legs.

Toris was breathing hard, and they had only kissed.

A palm stroked that smooth chest, that handsome center, those needy thighs.

Then to the tense thing between them.

It was standing up perfectly.

The gentle hand began to stroke.

"Ah…" Feliks had done this before.

"Do you like this?" Their lips met a second time, only briefly, only sweetly. "Tell me what feels good, Love."

There was only blissful protest.

It was then that Toris began to pontificate of what exactly was being done here. Feliks was a man, and he had not been in Poland so very long. Now, that very man was pulling at his cock; something kept private at almost all times.

Toris hardly did such a motion to himself, much less let others complete it for him.

"Ah…Stop, please."

"Stop?"

That grip froze against the shaft, squeezing playfully. "What do you mean stop? You like this."

The Lithuanian did not spit syllables from his throat. They were too dense.

So, with regret and obedience, the faux woman let go, a honeyed and sad look within those eyes. "What's wrong, Toris? Is it because I'm a man?"

"No…" The liar captured his running breath. "No. It' not that…I think we should get to know one another a bit more before doing such things. Sometimes I still feel like I've just met you. Don't you think we're moving quickly? Perhaps you'll find that you don't even like me. That I'm a stupid boar with no redeeming qualities."

"But I _do_ like you, Toris."

"But you might not in the future…" Brows dented, dropping deeply as flowers capitulated by heat. "I'm sorry, Feliks."

"Well…It's alright. Perhaps I'll have you later." A brief peck was donned to the cheek of the hesitant. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

When the tangled muse left, that poor fool felt ridiculous in his nudity and wore that knotted garment left upon the tiles. His back touched to the cool sheets and shame stained his face, redder than a fresh rose.

Toris did not sleep well that night, and neither did Feliks.


	8. Chapter 8

It had become somewhat uncomfortable after that incident. Neither spoke of it. Neither raised voice past silence. Neither acknowledged the brandish elephant rampaging inside the room.

They still worked together; of course. Nothing that spontaneous and foolish would crack them apart, especially so soon. But it was quiet when either usually exhibited words. They sat and signed and sat and signed and sat and signed. And read; they read as well.

The clock upon the wall grew louder, its ticks calling throughout that grand chamber as though it was in great pain. Crying for help. Crying for attention.

Quills upon the parchment grew unbearable. The scratching. The bleeding.

Even a peasant's voice, echoing in from the open window brought a level of malcontent.

Not to mention, it was hot.

All of it was building; a wall based upon solid bricks. A giant growing into the clouds. The elephant ruined more possessions.

Feliks pushed a stack of papers from his desk.

They all fled about the floor.

His counterpart regarded him, a droplet of shock within those furtive eyes. Those orbs flourished. They came alive after being dormant for several hours.

The Polish man only stared back.

Already, Toris could read those expressions as the pages of a children's book. "What's wrong, Feliks?"

The frustrated thing signed. "Nothing. I just-" Huff. "I've ruined everything. Haven't I?"

"What? No, no. Nothing is ruined. Why would you think that?"

"You know why. I've made you uncomfortable."

"How could you make me something I'm not?"

The blond was silent, scratching at the ceiling with a gaze sharp as claws.

"Listen, Feliks. Let's take a break. I think all this work is making us cross. Besides, it's far too hot, don't you think?"

"Yes. It is hot."

"You see? Why don't you go change into something more comfortable, and we can go through town? I don't have much work to left. Do you?"

"No I don't."

"Well, that's good then."

There was stillness. "…I don't want to pick up these papers…"

Toris simpered. "Then you shouldn't have knocked them over." The kindly Lithuanian began to gather the parchment within his arms. "I'll help you."

"Thank you."

After that mess of strewn parchment was taken from gravity's hold, the men traveled outside, Feliks having changed and either having weight pulled from their breaking shoulders.

However, that time, their palms did not kiss.

Fingers did not intertwine.

Cores remained separate.

But they did manage to glance to one another, Feliks' eyes deeper than that grand blue ocean. How very alive they were, irises exploding with all their activity. And they were so very sad.

The other sank attention beneath the harsh gravel, prodding at their sols.

"Toris…"

"Yes, Feliks?"

"Tell me something about yourself."

"Well…What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

That mind swirled a lasting moment. "Once, when I was very small, I spilled ink upon a mat made of golden fibers. It wasn't on purpose. I was walking about the halls, thinking to myself, deeply. Incredibly deeply for being so small, and then, I found my ink and paper all over that lovely golden surface. Immediately, I panicked. I tried to wipe it up, as fast as I could, but no matter what I did, the ink just spread around and ruined more of the rug. So I ran away from it, threw away my clothes with those dirty black sleeves and pretended that event had never occurred…Then, later; I heard of the incident from all those nobles. 'Someone ruined that nice golden mat.' They said. My heart sank when I couldn't find the courage to come forward and admit it was me who ruined that lovely article. Still, no one knows who marred the golden rug."

"I know."

"I trust you won't tell."

"No. Of course not."

"Thank you."

The atmosphere desiccated and became silent; it died, the heat ate it alive.

"I think…I think if I had ruined something so beautiful, I would have cried. And they would have known it was me."

"I wept for it. But I wept for it when no one was there to see me."

The blond nodded. "I'm sorry, Toris. That's quite the tragedy."

"A tragedy?"

"Yes. A tragedy." Hair was brushed behind a blushing ear. "It's a very small tragedy, but a tragedy none the less. You were too young to know what to do in such a situation. There was no one to confide in. You didn't trust anyone enough to love you, even though you had destroyed only a material possession; something trampled upon by the feet of others. How can an item be precious when its main duty is to be stepped on? It should have meant nothing at all, don't you think?"

The other man drank of thought in such crushing seconds. His expression was serious. "You're right. It must have been useless long before I spilled ink upon it. Why spend so much for something one can only step on?"

"I'm not entirely certain. But it's an act done frequently."

"Yes."

They came to the field poppies, that grand sea of sweet red blossoms. Dancing within their own hue and joy. The Polish man stopped to stare upon their fronts, their blushing petals, their mirthful leaves.

It was there, amongst all those tall stems, that Toris and Feliks had slept.

"I don't feel much like walking any longer."

So the flamboyant entity did not.

Instead, he drifted into that bed of welcoming blossoms.

It was there the light figure collapsed.

The Lithuanian only watched the sun devour that tired aristocrat. Feliks became something of a corpse, milky skin growing pallid and pink lips parting. Lashes embraced. The weary rested.

That scene was somehow gorgeous. The aurous locks enveloping the man's head. The expression represented in peace. The clothing drifting about those limbs as if the wearer was submerged within water.

If only such a phenomenon could have been captured. If only it could have been _his_.

Oh look, Toris. You're being stupid again.

The brunette tore the scene with his presence.

The clouds were kept beneath heavy surveillance.

Toris shut his eyes.

Then he apologized for the mat he ruined so many years before. Then he apologized for the flowers he had trampled upon. Then he apologized to Feliks.

But that time, his voice cracked the peace.

"It's alright, Toris." The soft flesh of the near woman devoured the other's numerals.

I will have you.

I will have you yet.

Again, they found themselves lost within that grand maze of poppies; poppies that lapped lovingly at their flesh.


	9. Chapter 9

It was after that ordeal that the manor returned to normality. Well. What normality meant to the pair. Feliks wore his silks proudly. And Toris was once again submerged within the strange; if he had ever left it.

The routine flooded back.

Unfortunately, the routine was usually mundane.

Wake up. Breakfast. Papers. Lunch. Papers. Dinner. Papers. Bed. Dreams. Papers. Wake up.

Repeat.

Sigh.

Their schedule, despite placing them within the exact same area, took time from friendship, and neither could alter it, besides attempting to escape for a set of hours.

Frustration seemed to hold them as endearing infants. The mother that would never let her children free. Never.

It did not help that they had not kissed one another since that infamous evening.

The tension built like a slow tsunami.

The bit of odd passion shared between them alleviated the back breaking stress piled about their shoulders. It did not cover up the work; it did not get more of the daunting parchments signed; however, it left either in a state of inexplicable euphoria. The mere act was something of a release, passion and frustration welling up within either former loner finally allowed free. Pushed from the blood and forced from the heart.

But they were no longer allowed that sensation, despite agreeing with one another fairly well.

Toris would find himself lying beneath those confining covers, writhing inside his lust. Feliks had left his room, and he was only allowed those sheets built as prison bars and an erection caught between his thighs.

It was an awkward thing, to cure that disease himself. His palms felt absolutely fetid, simply terrible, doing such a thing. But some nights, the choice was null. The man could not sleep due to such an unfortunate rush.

Toris finished, convinced a sort of murder was committed.

Then he would sleep.

The situation was certainly not a simple one.

Especially considering how very attached to one another they truly were. They would not admit it; not even the Polish man. But that bit of need and affection and beauty was there, keeping those men up, forcing them to address the blood gathering below the waist.

Toris wondered if it would simply be easier to give in.

To donate his entire anatomy to the other so he could do with it as he pleased.

They could use one another. They could love one another. They could_ please_ one another.

Feliks resembled a woman so perfectly already.

How terrible would their love making be?

Perhaps it was for the better.

Perhaps the worse.

Hearts sank.

And they landed within the office.

"Toris."

"Yes, Feliks?"

The other half's voice collapsed within his throat.

"Feliks, what is it?"

"I…I want to kiss you." Those glassy green eyes stared only at the wall. "I've had enough of this. I just need to kiss you. It's as though I'm a hound that hasn't been fed in weeks, and yet, there's fresh meat being dangled just out of my reach. You can't let me have you and then tell me I can't even touch you any longer. My poor heart is going to burst…You feel the same way, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."The Lithuanian man hardly needed to calculate the answer.

So the blond stood and walked to him, those grand purple fabrics ruffling around his figure, and captured that handsome visage between sweetened palms. They stared at one another an instant, mouths slightly gaping, and gently, those lips came together, blending as though their beginning was only one being that was unfortunately cleaved in two.

Toris' hand devoured that form, those pretty hips and that attractive back, all wrapped up in gorgeous paper. A gift.

Tongues fought. They embraced. They kissed, sliding and pushing. Saliva shared. A cure was born. A cure that either created while gripping at one another. A cure that was in such desperate demand.

It was entire minutes before the needy pair shattered and one divided in two.

Then they embraced; lovers that had not seen one another for months.

"Thank you, Toris."

"Thank you, Feliks."

It was then that the routine breathed. The dead could once again claim mobility of muscles once slaughtered and hearts functioned that could not function before.

The Polish man drifted to other's den.

Most nights were spent with embraces and loving kisses.

But they had not yet made love. That level was not stepped upon as of yet. However, it was alright. Because either man was free of that internal writhing.

It was obvious when the Lithuanian captured the Polish man within the hallway, sweeping him backward and connecting their mouths. Feliks was caught as though his form was falling to the ground and that brunette had saved him. It was uncharacteristic. It was spontaneous. And it birthed bliss within their lungs.

They were joyous.

It was difficult not to grin due to simple thought.

The girl fell even deeper into the rabbit hole.


	10. Chapter 10

"Toris…"

They lied within the field of poppies, bodies engulfing one another, heat shared and affection produced.

"Yes, Feliks?"

"Oh. Oh, it's nothing." The blond closed his eyes and huddled in even nearer to that gentle soul, kissing his flushed cheek. "I'm just happy."

"I am too."

"Mmm…" Feliks searched for his darling's hand, guarding that treasure as though it was a wondrous jewel; something to be adored. "Toris, are you happy to be here?"

"Yes, I am. Haven't I told you so already?"

"Perhaps. I'm not quite sure. My mind had been a wreck these past few days. We've been so incredibly occupied with those signatures. I have to be honest; all that reading truly does mar my mind."

"Absolutely; sometimes I feel as though I can't even enjoy stories any longer. When I have my free time, the last thing I want to do is read."

"My poor Toris. Sometimes, I believe it would be easier to be a peasant. So much nonsense to attend to. Without the ability to read, life would be simpler, wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps not, Feliks. It might become even more difficult. Imagine doing every last thing yourself. No servants or anything at all. Not to mention being a farmer or a black smith. You would be even more worn by the end of the day."

The Polish man thought a moment. "Well, you're right. As usual." Another tinge set to the Lithuanian's visage. "Perhaps simple is more complex. 'Simple' may not be simple at all."

"I can believe that."

An ephemeral phase of utter calm.

"Toris, I love you."

Surprise devoured his blood. "You do?"

"Yes, I do." A touch. A sear. "Do you love me?"

"Yes Feliks, I do."

A part of that very moment felt horribly wrong. Toris had not yet decided upon his feelings for his companion, although, he certainly suspected the other's sentiments regarding him. There was a definite _like_ for that strange character, that surprising entity that had such an odd way about him. But it was far too soon to say _love._ One cannot accuse a sprout of being a sunflower.

However, Toris did care for his blond creature, enough that he could not bear to trample upon his poor heart, that crux brimming with its passionate magma and all the kindness that petit being held.

Toris could grow to love him, couldn't he?

Before anymore thought could be crafted, their mouths were hooked together, limbs holding one another and tongues lost within different caverns.

Well. This assumed adoration certainly had a few advantages.

Feliks nearly tore open the other's blouse.

Perhaps a few too many.

"Wait…"

"What's wrong?"

"I've never…" Those cheeks flourished in rouge. "I've never dome this with another man before. I'm not even certain what to do…"

"But you do know how it works, don't you?"

"Yes, but…"

"Well, I'll help you. It's not so hard to please me" A mild kiss. "Let's go home, darling. Heaven forbid someone sees us." Those naughty Polish fingers placed the garments back around his prey, and the body containing them stood and remained patiently. The dumbfounded one joined him, their hands connecting as they usually did.

And they returned.

Toris' heart slammed against his breast as they moved throughout those halls; into the Polish man's chamber. He did not know what to expect. He did not know how to please another man.

And he had not done this in a while.

They came to the threshold.

Then they walked inside.

The door shut, and they stared.

But only for a moment.

Feliks pulled his lover in nearer and their orifices went to unison. Garments came falling to the floor; Toris helping the blond from his gown.

Already, blood began to rush as those bodies melded together, flesh fighting past undergarments and attempting to devour the opposite. Arms came to embraces and chests pressed together.

Feliks removed his last few layers.

Then he removed Toris' acquired skin.

Again, his core bound against his ribs, throat desiccating. Palms set to a quiver. That figure had become something of a specimen, placed beneath the critical lens and given a rank.

His face became a conflagration when the blond man's emerald eyes glanced between his legs. Studying that organ. Its width. Its height. Even that sweet little border of curling brown hair.

Feliks did not seem shy in the least; he stood with golden hair dousing his shoulder and anatomy utterly calm. There was no rouge splashed upon his face, no evidence of the need to cover himself back up. None of that. He simply stood, pretty as a sculpture, in all that twisted pulchritude.

Toris glanced in between his thighs as well.

Yes. Feliks was a man. The evidence was all there.

"Go sit on the bed, Toris."

"Of course."

The Lithuanian's backside touched to those silken layers and waited in odd patience as that entity came to his proximity. Feliks sunk between those limbs, taking that member within his kindly palm.

"Mmm…"

Grip came to those golden strands.

And the Polish man began to tug.

"Ah-!"

It was astonishing how fast that flesh became firm, kept beneath the beautiful one's touch. Toris' crux pumped, his feet shook, as though going into horrible shock, and the dreamer shut his heavy eyes.

The pleasure became him. It devoured him. It engulfed him. It washed over that crackling skin.

Toris had not realized it, but he _needed_ this. The warmth of another was the start of life. He was not breathing before. Before, his lungs were frozen. Before, his tone was purple and dead.

Now. Now, the pink returned to his visage.

Every last beat could be felt as it traveled throughout his veins, pulsing, singing, humming.

So.

Very.

Loud.

_Gasp. _

It was a tongue.

"Aaahhh…"

Toris nearly howled as that pretty pink mouth enveloped the tip of his cock, pulling so very sweetly.

"Aah! Feliks!"

"Hmm…" The mouth released. "I suppose you like this?"

"Yes…"

So that odd muse suckled upon the other's flesh. Because he enjoyed it. Because he wished to make Toris happy.

"A-ah…" Those poor hands tugged upon the other's soft straw follicles. The one at work only laughed.

Blood convulsed.

Moan.

Feliks tugged harder.

And for minutes, preceding, the pattern was followed. Toris' crux leapt. His companion drew upon the shaft. Cries of euphoria. Hands made to grip sectors of those crisp sheets.

Suddenly, it stopped; Toris had not finished.

"It's your turn, love." A chest was pulled from underneath the bed. Its top was clicked open and a container of something or other was pulled from it. That odd microcosm held inside the blond man's hand was bulbous and had a slender neck with a simplistic cork. It was given to the Lithuanian, who attempted to break that grand orb in two with a plain and scrutinizing stare.

Feliks invaded the sheets with his boisterous presence.

Then he sat upon the brunette's lap.

Without phrase, the bottle was taken and used to soak Toris' index and middle finger; then those little appendages were lead to Feliks' behind and pressed gently against that opening. They burrowed in only slightly.

"Stretch, Toris."

So Toris stretched.

And Feliks wailed.

"Ah!"

The men kissed as this mangled event occurred, bodies embracing ever so softly and orifices melting as though placed beneath heat. Passion burst from the pores; hearts thumped about cavities. Moans, shameless and loud were birthed into the air.

Another finger was added.

"Oh…_Toris._" The flamboyant creature gasped. "Oh God. _I want you._"

"Are you ready?"

"Ah-! Just a little more."

As numerals completed their wondrous occupation, Feliks donned more oil to the opposite's lonely member, then grasped his darling's wrist and moved those dutiful workers from their posts. The Polish man rose, and allowed that pink little head to touch to his backside.

"Are you ready, Love?"

"Yes, I am."

So Feliks sank.

The Brunette was pushed backward into the sheets and regarded Feliks as those hips moved. The body rose, then it fell. And it rose, then it fell. Again and again and again.

And to the Lithuanian's surprise, it brought pleasure. Ecstasy raged throughout his essence as though it was as base an element as water. His moans became twisted and mangled as that wonderful thing created that fantastic sensation.

Feliks seemed to devour the euphoria as well.

"Ah-!" Those Fertile orbs were buried beneath lids and that beautiful mouth was gaping. Toris could feel his partner's heart, the flow of his very life. It was all there.

They had become one.

Toris knocked Feliks to his side, upon his back, and wrapped around him possessively. His hips nearly slammed into the Polish man's form, need and fire grasping him tightly, as the hand of Satan.

Feliks held a mild look of shock, but did not protest. Hardly. He cried with an excess of volume, tears prickling within those frames as the screams tore from his mouth. His darling's name was thrown into the air, gasps destroyed his throat, and nails gripped to the opposite's susceptible back.

"Oh, Toris!"

"Ah! Feliks!"

And so suddenly, it was over.

Souls disconnected and collapsed next to one another.

Then they studied those separate forms that were once a whole.

Feliks had created a mess all about his middle, heaving been caught within the heat of that phenomenon. Now he was exhausted, ejaculation leaking from the tip of member and flowing from that poor orifice.

Toris pinned a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you." The Polish man managed to move from the bed, picking up his lovely and crinkled gown from gravity's keep. "I'm going to clean up now. Feel free to rest here."

"No…Let me come with you."

But Toris was already half asleep.

"That's alright, darling. I'll return soon."

Feliks drifted away so quietly after dressing, knowing that his Toris was likely spent. The brunette was allowed his recovery, and the other, that odd creature, was not angry or even stunned to find that sweet man asleep, submerged inside fantasy.

Instead, Feliks joined him, settling in and sharing warmth while being subdued to the exact same state.


	11. Chapter 11

It seemed to be a pattern. The Polish man invades the Lithuanian's room. The Polish man and the Lithuanian make love. Then comes the sleep. The bliss. And then they wake up.

There grew a thirst for one another. So much so, insomnia was induced when that desire could not be filled. One could not rest without his limbs occupied by the other. Their love became a habit. A fix.

And through that fertilizer, zeniths burst into livid bloom.

But inside that brilliant plumage, all the colors showed. Some not the brightest of hues. Some far too bright for their own good.

Feliks was incredibly bossy.

The Lithuanian was shocked at such a trait.

Had he simply not noticed it before hand? Was his eye sight punched out by that cascade of golden hair and sparkling green orbs? They seemed to hypnotize him every time that poor man was lost beneath his presence.

The sun flower that was not aware it was being bent backward. Its spine cracked and no pain arrived within that severed stalk. None what so ever.

But as soon as the stem was released, the blossom was keen to the child's tricks.

Toris was wising up to the blond man's horrid charisma. Now he was only charmed within his glittering and incredibly pink company.

How could an existence even _be_ pink? An entity dyed the color of a spring rose.

How very stupid.

Regardless.

Those alternative qualities were beginning to burst into life.

The shit upon the peacock's toes.

Sometimes it was especially obvious.

"Toris, I'm going to paint the mansion pink."

"What?"

"I'm going to paint it pink."

"But _why?_"

"I'm not quite certain. Mainly because I feel like doing so." There was absolutely no argument. Feliks was going to have his beautiful pink palace and there was not a thing anyone could do about it.

All until the Polish man had called off that occurrence himself.

The painters had come.

They came with their brushes and their hues.

And they began, as they were instructed to do. But after finishing an entire wall, that little king appeared, wearing only the most normal of garments (as they were strangers) and simply spoke, "Stop."

Of course, the pigmentation ceased to stain the wall.

"I don't like it. You can go now."

All the man glanced to one another, stunned at such a blatant impulsiveness.

"Are you certain, sir?"

After all, they were expecting salaries.

"Yes of course I'm certain. That's why I asked you to stop. You can go now."

So, left without an option, the former workers left the spectacular premises, carrying their lonesome tools and several gallons of horrendous pink paint.

Of course, Toris was not there to witness that performance. His eyes were not fortunate enough to devour such odd and subtle cruelty. But he heard about it from anyone with a mouth. The servants didn't quit their talk of that incident for what seemed to be aching and long days. Numerous complaints were birthed of that hideous pink wall. How, at least, that singular area should have been completed, so he did not infect everyone's sight as the missing finger upon a once beautiful hand. It would have been more common place. Sense could have sprung from the nonsense that had been layered about that wall.

But it seemed that no change was coming. Feliks was resolute on his singular pink space.

The Lithuanian was willing to allot benefit of the doubt. Perhaps those rumors were inflated. Perhaps Feliks had paid them generous sums for their time. Perhaps the painters were not given such abrupt words. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

After all, phrase in motion always becomes untrue. The minor blemish suddenly converts to boils one would show if they caught the plague.

Who would know?

Still, a bit of worry had been placed within the brunette's stomach. Not an abundance. The issue was truly not so gargantuan. But it was enough to cause that man to reconsider his Polish companion; the one who seemed to adore him so heavily.

The time between them was usually peaceful, anyway.

They still enjoyed one another's company.

Well.

Mostly.

There were times when Toris craved his solitude. The pair constantly seemed to _be_ a pair. And that was odd for the foreigner, considering so much of his previous time was spent in the presence of only himself.

It was wondrous to have another near. Of course. Perpetual lonesomeness was a horrid disease. However, the other extreme seemed to rule. Toris never found a singular version of himself. Almost always, there was the blond, smiling, glistening and chewing upon his poor swollen nerve endings.

"Feliks…"

"Yes, Toris?"

"Would you mind if I took a break from my work?"

"Certainly not. You're welcome to do as please. So, where shall we go?"

"Well, you see…I was hoping I could have a few hours to myself. I wanted to do a bit of reading. Or perhaps take a walk to clear my head of everything."

"Can't speaking with me clear your head of things?"

"It can, but in a very different way, Feliks. I just need to…To consider things. That's all."

"Toris, are you having second thoughts about me?"

At that moment, they stared at one another, and within the entity's eyes was an entire universe of inquiry. The pain brought by a tragic 'yes' would cause the small diamond they had created together to burst. A star falling across the inky sky. _For the entire world to admire._

They would love to see such cluster unfold.

"No. No. Of course not. It's only…Well. How do I explain this?"The Lithuanian thought a moment. "As odd as this sounds, I need to think in my first language for a little while. You see, when we speak to one another, I'm always thinking Polish. And we speak so very frequently…I've even began to dream in Polish, and my mind is a huge mess of Polish and Lithuanian words. I only wish to sort it out before my mind becomes too frazzled. And unfortunately, no one can assist me with such a task. It's something I need to do on my own time."

"Oh, love. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Nice save, Toris.

"I had idea! Yes see, sometimes I forget you're from another place. Your Polish is so perfect. I just assumed speaking it was no trouble whatsoever. But it must be difficult, to do such a thing." The blond thought "Please, take as much time as you like. Mental exhaustion is the very worst. We can always resume doing all these idiotic papers tomorrow. I'm quite tired myself." Those lovely bones stretched. "I'll see you later tonight then, when it's time for dinner. Do you think that will be enough time?"

"Oh, yes. That should be fine. I only need two or three hours."

An affirmative nod. "Well, please relax. And let know if I can help you in some way."

"Of course. Thank you, Feliks."

"Certainly."

So Toris went to his room and he sat. And he thought. All in Lithuanian. It had not occurred to him how much his life had truly altered. It seemed as though his entire universe had been gripped and shaken, all for the good of his country. Or so they had said. His entire existence had been submerged in work and tome spent with Feliks. And now that there was time to consider such a radical transaction, the sadness and distress finally had their rein.

Has he truly been speaking Polish the entire?

Truly?

It seemed so strange suddenly, to put another set of words inside your mouth and simply exploit them as though they were entirely your own.

What an odd thing.

The misplaced man slept through dinner. Feliks still joined him when it was time to sleep.

The upset was certainly sensed. So the absent man was forgiven for neglecting dinner. It was alright. Because in time, such an event would not be recalled.

Simply, Feliks took that sad creature into his gentle arms and kissed him upon the cheek. Shapely fingers ran through his ruined brown hair. They settled upon the frame of his dejection.

"I love you, Toris." Another edition of those sugared touches. "I'm sorry you feel this way. But you can sleep now. I'll keep the demons away from you."

So Toris slept.

Perhaps these foibles of personality could be forgiven.

Perhaps Feliks was good, in his faults and his beauty.

Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

The Lithuanian stumbled back to his Polish dreams.


	12. Chapter 12

They sat beneath that tree, still as statues. Simply waiting as that artist placed color upon the canvas. The event scheduled for quite a while, but neither truly felt happiness to be painted. Staying still for hours. Pretending to be composed of stone. It was not exactly thrilling.

Toris was certainly not pleased.

He attempted to erase the petit frown from those dissatisfied lips and curve them into a smile composed of chiseled stone. To allot for some form of faux joy to mark that work of art. Even if the painter would likely portray him as pleasing anyway.

The time he took alone gave Pandora the opportunity to swing the lid from her chest. Reality finally seemed to thrash him.

This was his new home.

This place was _his._

And there were no means of escape.

The euphoric high born of the excitement and anxiety had waned, and now, that once beautiful poppy had fainted and began to rot inside the Lithuanian's palm.

Toris still liked Feliks. Of course, he had not been convinced to _love_ him yet, but he certainly liked him. However, it did not stop those new and coming faults from wearing upon his fraying tolerance.

He began to notice how fickle the blond seemed to be at times, electing to do something and simply canceling the events due to sheer laziness. Sometimes, the way he merely carried himself brought a level of malcontent and spite in the brunette. At other instances, it was simply the fact that so much time was spent amongst one another. As though Toris was not allowed as much as a single breath without Feliks there to witness it.

But that was not either of their faults. The job _required_ that they be in one another's presence. That pair was a team, and as a team, they were expected to function as a whole, not fragments.

Certainly, the strange and effeminate entity felt the same sort of itch. The little irritation growing at the back of his mind, spreading like a virus and devouring his flesh.

Bit.

By bit.

By bit.

Such discomfort was not uncommon. All people went through similar upsets. Through those little outbursts of flaring and silent dislike. It happens to all of us from time to time.

…Correct?

Well, regardless. That sensation was truly not so bad. Quite frequently, Toris felt happy within the other man's proximity, having the ability to openly meld lips together and wrap limbs and figures and souls in handsome knots. To engulf. To devour. To take full possession of. It was lovely in its own regard. To simply _have._ Such a truth brought comfort other friendships could not possess.

They could have one another any way they pleased and nothing would be changed.

Yet, there was much to make the foreigner's stomach writhe.

Either had only known the other for such a small amount of time. How is it they were already so near?

Was that a good trait? A bad trait? Did it mean simply nothing at all?

As ridiculous as it was, there were times when Toris felt as though he had been pushed into an arranged marriage, but his wife was nothing more than a gorgeous man with glittering sights and straw-hued hair that flowed easily as water from a broken faucet.

Goodness. What was he to do with himself?

Thought swarmed around his head as a million angered bees, all while those limbs, which desired to thrash and holler, remained menacingly still.

It was simply too much.

Yet, Toris tolerated it, as medicine with a sting for taste because free choice was null, and the stone prison was building too quickly around him.

If he was drowned in sand, then so be it.

Acceptance comes when resistance cannot.

Toris was painted.

And Toris swallowed his emotions whole.

It provided an excellent base for sour misery.

Oh, how he desired to shift. To move.

To do anything at all.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been a tough week.

Toris seemed to be particularly upset.

He had still not climbed over the grand mountain of truth he had found. Life became taxing. But it had been beforehand.

One could see the Polish man growing just as sick. A fetid and dull anger building inside his stomach.

Of course, he still loved the Lithuanian.

But that didn't mean such a constant depression was something pleasing. No. Not in the least. It churned his middle into an ugly knot. It knitted his blond brows. It yanked at his arteries.

Perhaps because nothing could be done for it. Feliks could not bandage the metaphorical cuts lacing his darling's flesh. He could not wash the blood from his pores and give medicine to banish the pain. He could not mend those breaking organs.

All he could do was sit and watch. Gritting his teeth. Clenching his once calm hands into frustrated and tightly configured fists.

Feliks genuinely cared for his friend, even if the situation was not easy, it was not an easy task to watch your poor phoenix sink inside its own ash, even if it will certainly rise again.

Death was painful.

Always, it was.

Not only for the dying but for the friends and family who were made to regard from bedsides and bathtubs.

Yes. It was true that Toris was not dying, not in the least. But the amount of anxiety had for his condition matched that of a falling man.

Still, the bond insisted upon holding him within those kind arms. A leach to the festering laceration. It did not heal the problem, growing as a seed beneath the sun, but it did provide comfort for the breaking soil around that hungry life.

Feliks felt as though he was helping.

He was definitely trying.

One day, it seemed he had tried too hard.

"Toris, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Feliks. Truly."

"But you're clearly upset. You've _been_ upset. And every time I ask you why, you tell me the same thing, that's it's nothing. It's always _nothing._ You're able to tell me. I won't judge you for a thing."

"It's not about you judging me. It's just-" The Lithuanian cut himself off, not certain of what words to use or even how to put that blatant discomfort into articulation. Instead, his throat seemed to implode and decided to no longer function.

"Toris, I can't help you if you don't tell me what to fix. All I can do is continue to ask and hope there's something I can do."

"Perhaps I don't want your help! Perhaps I simply want to be alone!"

Those simplistic phrases pricked Feliks directly in the heart.

No. Not because he was so very sensitive. But because these little outbursts had been going on for quite a few days now and the giving and tolerant soul had simply collapsed under such mistreatment.

"I'm getting sick of your attitude, Toris! Are you so stupid that you're blind to another's kindness? I have put my own emotion aside of you! I've eaten your sharp replies as though they were nothing but all your others, just to keep from vexing you! It hurts me entirely that you simply can't swallow your pride or whatever the _hell _it is, and spit out the truth!" Green eyes waged war. "How day you? How dare you treat someone who truly venerates you as such trash? This is simply unacceptable and I won't tolerate any more of it! Leave my office before I throw you out!"

The brunette did not move, nostrils flaring and anger contaminating his sight as blood upon white silk.

"_I said get out!_" Feliks was not bluffing; he took one of the novels from the top of his desk and threw it as his partner. It clattered upon the wall behind him, its flesh scathed in the process. But it did not end at that. Another book was taken from the same source and hurled at that melancholy soul, this edition slamming into his midsection.

Immediately, the sharp pain overtook those screaming nerves and the afflicted buckled over, writhing a decent moment.

Toris had just been defeated by a man wearing a gown.

He crawled out of the chamber to prevent the creation of even more shame, all while the gorgeous entity stood there, enraged.

The Lithuanian managed to return to his room, flopping upon his poor marred sheets and shut those withering eyes. The bruise was forming. Toris could almost feel the yellow taking formation upon his abdomen. The deep purple scrambling his hide. The blue eating at his poor skin.

Despite being damaged by the Polish man's finest encyclopedia, the out of place one felt a degree of guilt. Perhaps he was being ridiculous. Feliks certainly did not deserve such short cruelty even if his need to help was overbearing. He meant for the best. Well. Until the hard cover sprouted wings.

Within that grand mess of poignant sentiment, Toris fell asleep, willing to skip all that twisting thought and come to a new phase in that argument.

He awoke hours later with Feliks sitting at the edge of the bed, holding another edition of page. The air about him was something calm, although somewhat miserable.

"Toris, I'm sorry I hit you." The uninvited guest turned to glance at his counterpart. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset. I wish I could take it back, but…It's a bit late for that now."

For a short amount of time, the other did not speak. "I'm sorry, Feliks. I don't mean to be such a pain. I'm just…I'm a little homesick." Toris lidded his vision. "It's occurred to me that I won't be seeing much of my old home, or even speaking Lithuanian. It's quite sad once it truly sinks in." A sigh. "I don't mean to upset you."

"It's alright…I actually didn't mean to hit you. I was just trying to scare you off, so I would be left alone. I planned to miss you, but-"

"You got me."

"Yes…Does it still hurt?"

"A little bit. It's not unbearable. But I'm certain I'll get a bruise."

"Well. Books tend to be heavy." A bit of solace entered the blond man's expression. "I found this, lying around." The novel was handed to the injured thing. "It's in Lithuanian. I figured you would enjoy it."

"Thank you…"

"It's the least I can do after clocking you with that horrible thing. Will you forgive me, Toris?"

"Yes. I will…Will you forgive me?"

"I already did."

Exchanged grins poised in such empathy. Feliks kissed his lover's cheek with kind lips.

"Let's go eat dinner, alright?"

"Alright. Thank you."

After the men had food within their middles, their corpses collapsed upon the bed they had compromised in. Arms engulfed the other in utter sugar and bodies were held in a gentle reverence. Kisses were exchanged and love was made after such a heated and brief argument.

It truly made getting hit with a book the size of a brick much, much easier.

The old slate was cleaned and tomorrow freshened the sheets of that filthy bed.


	14. Chapter 14

Palms adhered. Fingers wove together. Light kissed flesh. Toris came to his side and captured Feliks inside an embrace. Mouths waltzed. Tongues danced. Love brought spring to their cheeks.

"Oh, darling…" The polish man whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too…"

Feliks caught his tongue in between a smile and drew upon it gently. Smooth hands caught the Lithuanian's collarbone. Thumbs kneaded sugared circles within that silky flesh and that combination of lips grew deeper.

Forms touched.

Hearts thumped inside their chests.

Hues exploded within the room, blaring as flesh pigmentation.

Then they ceased and the pair regarded one another, emerald orbs studying emerald orbs.

Either simpered, feeling as though luck had tossed them a mountain of gold, something worth admiring.

Feliks certainly was lovely this morning.

That shining mess of aurous beauty, abundant upon his scalp. Those lips shaped in perfection. Cheeks the hue of rich wine and eyes that shared every dimension of his soul. The faults. The qualities. Everything. All within those irises.

A sigh of contentment.

This peace was wondrous. This bliss that seemed to surround them in a generous abundance. His happiness that infected blood and drove them as addicts.

Yes. Another sigh.

And palms welded together once again as either man regarded the ceiling.

For a savoring moment Toris considered his universe.

Perhaps it was not so difficult to be here. To speak Polish and spend time with another in the same predicament. To be loved and valued as an artifact from centuries past. To be accepted utterly.

Toris recalled his former home.

The lonesome walls. The lonesome chambers. Te lonesome corridors. The lonesome estate.

With lonesome little Toris.

No. No. This had to be better. That word did not even hold pertinence anymore. Because Toris was hardly ever allowed his own time for all too long. Feliks would save him before that familiar pattern of mangled depression set itself into his bones.

Feliks exercised those phantoms every single time.

And how pleasant that was. To have another to watch after you.

It did not matter that such a heavy portion of their time was spent connected to one another. It did not matter that there was not a choice when it came to those hours of being welded together.

It certainly defeated being alone every moment of the day. Working for nothing. Attending those awkward gatherings for nothing. Becoming crippled for nothing.

Toris was happy now. Now, it no longer seemed as though each hour he was allotted was thrown to the bricks in vain. He meant something to someone. Finally, his existence was granted a purpose, more so than simply being the slave of a sour nation. A nation of people who still did not know his name.

And Feliks could feel it as well, this worth derived from company. He was likely caught inside the same vat of tar Toris had been encased in.

It was nice not to be drowning.

"Toris, you're so lovely."

Feliks was thinking the very same things.

"You are as well, Feliks." Eyes closed an endearing moment.

And either grew comfortable.

It was one of those glorious mornings in which one can simply longue within their sheets, sinking within a silken wonderland and basking beneath the embrace of a golden sun. Much less, with another kept upon the side.

Yes. This was life as its finest. These simple moments. These small times that cannot be bought with all the money the world had to be gained. One cannot bribe the sun, or the wind, or the clouds. Everyone must wait in tortured anticipation for the perfect dawn to arise from the mountain's purple grasp and illuminate that fresh canvas.

Yes. This was fresh happiness. Unadulterated happiness. Unfettered happiness.

Mirth.

The pair smiled.


	15. Chapter 15

The years arrived. They came as horsemen and tore through wars and treaties and rulers and lives. Fashion altered. Hair grew longer. Hair was cut. Books were read. Polish became perfect. Lithuanian had been tossed down a well. Portraits were torn from the walls; new portraits were erected.

Everything changed.

Life grew still again.

It was almost as though Toris had been wed to the same person for entirely too long. The same man every day. The golden hair. The green eyes. The golden hair. The green eyes. Day after day after day.

Constantly, the former Lithuanian found himself to be staring at the some portrait he had been for an eternity. It was a canvas soaked in beauty, but that happy element faded due to adjustment. Feliks became common simply because he was spotted at such an often frequency.

And when that handsome side faded, and the Polish man was _simply_ the Polish man, all his soul shined throughout those gaping pores.

All his dominance and control. All his anger and his frivolousness. It was written about his grassy orbs and his rosy pink lips.

Most times, Toris was willing to forgive those off attributes, donning tolerance to the same man who showed him so much possessive affection and mangled kindness. However, there came instances when the Lithuanian could not handle anymore of that eccentric blond.

At those points, they fought. Usually with words. Occasionally with blows, due to such a heavy build-up of sudden and violent frustration.

Their love had grown stale.

But it was not their fault, necessarily. When a blizzard of occupation nests upon one's shoulders, no time is taken for relationships. No time to feed the starving plant. No time to smooth out the perpetual welds.

And after quite a long while, the star explodes. Its knees buckles and it collapse. The cuts and bruises are too much and it bleeds to death simply because no one had supplied bandages.

So, Toris and Feliks loved one another, certainly. But there was no passion left. No more gorgeous pastels to mar the bursting portrait. Only filthy hues.

Black. Brown. Grey.

Monarchs converted to moths.

But it was alright. The situation would not alter, so it was excepted and either spent their time living in tolerance and what was left inside their cruxes. Toris allowed Feliks his control, and did his service simply by listening.

After all, Feliks was the queen.

And fighting the queen was _always_ treason.

Well, they had both gotten worse. That wasn't fair.

One morning, in that mess of monotony, the pair lied in bed, scratching at the ceiling with gazes. Attempting to make a sky light. However, they hardly left a weld.

"Toris, my friend Elizaveta is coming to visit."

"The Hungarian woman?"

"Yes, her."

"I never knew you two were companions."

"Toris, we've known one another forever. I always speak to her when we go to those silly balls."

"Oh, I see." Feliks spoke to _everyone_ at those gatherings. There was amazement at the mere fact that the perplexed man knew who Feliks was referring to. Well. _Vaguely_. He had certainly met this Elizaveta before, but briefly. Her hair was long. That was about all he recalled. Actually, Toris had met her so long ago he did not remember anything about the woman.

At least he was aware of who she was.

"If you've known Elizaveta forever, why haven't I seen her around?"

"Well, she tends to have a hard time of things. The poor woman is always occupied with something or other and considering everything she's had to put up with….It's not a wonder why she hadn't been able to visit. But we've been acquainted since we were children…"

Please stop speaking. Please.

You're making my head pound.

"So I'd like to make sure the home looks nice..."

"Of course." Toris had to drown the sign wallowing inside his throat.

"Toris, are you upset that a guest is coming?"

"No. I'm just frustrated that there's more to do now."

"You speak like you're the one who has to clean the place up."

The other did not say anything.

"Listen, I was thinking; since Elizaveta is going to stay with us for a few days, I thought it would be best if I slept in my own bed. I don't want her to-well. You know, Toris."

"Yes, I understand."

Thank _God._

Then a certain quiet devoured them.

"What time is she coming, Feliks?"

"She'll be here in two days; on Friday. I'd like to have everything done so we can spend time with her. It would be very rude to work during Elizaveta's stay."

"Of course."

"Wonderful." The polish man removed himself from those sheets, pushing out the wrinkles of his night gown with open palms. "I'm going to get dressed now. I'll see you at breakfast."

"I'll see you at breakfast."

When the irritating man left the room, the remainder accepted all of that pent up frustration within a sigh. Perhaps, he thought, he should have felt guilty for carrying so much malcontent, such a low tolerance. But that did not matter. Toris was past being concerned.

Another sigh trudged from his lips.

Toris rose for another day of the same shit.

Dress. Eat. Work. Eat. Work. Eat. Bed.

Dress. Eat. Work. Prepare. Work. Eat. Work. Prepare. Argue. Bed.

Elizaveta.

She came with a polite knock upon the door.

Either man was awaiting her with anticipation. As soon as one of those servants answered, Feliks was running towards that gap, having been sitting and waiting. His staff beat him to it.

Without uttering even a brief 'Hello', the two were embracing, exciting noise coming from the base of their hearts. Arms tightened around one another as boa constrictors, while feet clumsily managed to take either party back inside that embellished home.

Toris was standing at the base of that grand staircase, hands fiddling with one another in a sort of anxious patience.

Then they separated and Feliks brought her to his companion.

"Elizaveta, this is Toris."

"Hello, Toris." The woman gave a brief curtsy and smiled, a radiance enveloping every last pore. "It's lovely to meet you. I've heard so much about you from Feliks."

"I say the same to you. Feliks hasn't stopped speaking about you for the last several days."

A moment of laughter. "Oh, what have you been saying about me, Feliks? Hopefully good things."

"Certainly, Elizaveta." The blond simpered, granting his guest a sort of welcome. "Now before we all become too cozy, I would like to show you around, just to get the formality out of the way. Then we can all sit and talk."

"Oh, of course. Whatever you like. But tell me, have you both finished all your work? I know it becomes dreadfully busy at times, so if either of you need to attend to those documents, I can certainly entertain myself. Necessities shouldn't be put off for company."

"Oh! Dear, you know we were smart and finished it before you even arrived." The Polish man crushed his friend's nose with a playful thumb. "Besides, you're much more important than all that idiotic garbage. Come, I'll show you around."

As that reunited duo jabbered on and on, Toris adhered his vision to that enchanting lady layered in such a handsome dress.

That long hair wound into a happy mess upon her head, a mess with flowers and diamonds. Those eyes, pigmented such a deep green, fraught with charm. Cheeks, pink and vibrant as a fresh rose. Simply, she was beautiful. Everything about her was new and pristine. That thin waist. Those petit shoulders.

Oh my goodness.

The Lithuanian found himself to be hypnotized.

"Toris…"

"Toris…"

"_Toris._"

"Oh, what?" They were inside their office.

"Toris, Elizaveta asked you a question."

"Yes?" Those poor stupid brows bent.

"Oh I was just wondering if you both spent all your time here."

"Yes, we do. Almost all of it actually. Until we can't handle anymore."

"I see. I try to go other places throughout the day. Sometimes I work in the library, and when I have business with Austria, I'll reside in Mr. Edelstein's home. He even allows me to use his office sometimes, but I always feel so-"

"_That Austrian?_ You know, Elizaveta, there are a few very juicy rumors about you and him. I wanted to speak to you about that, you know." The man waved his hand, as though allotting her a message. "But we'll address that later."

Toris became lost once more in the ringlets surrounding the Hungarian's scalp, despite his sudden and odd curiosity toward that 'Mr. Edelstein.' Well. Such a woman would never do _anything_ scandalous. Elizaveta was simply too sweet, or at least, upon first meeting, she seemed entirely too kind-

You don't even know this woman you _fool._

A breath.

Why such a sudden attraction? What a senseless action. What an idiotic folly.

Quiet your thoughts, Toris. Whoever said you were allowed to dream? Your path has been set. It's _been_ set the least several decades.

Wake up.

The rest of that day followed such a pattern. Oh my, look at that woman. No. Don't be so moronic. Goodness, those lips-Be quiet! Such soft flesh…

Then Toris went to bed alone. And his mind was utterly drowned in that Hungarian. There were fantasies of her. Without even trying to do so, she had engulfed him entirely. Ate him alive while coating him in caramel.

And Toris allowed it.

And Toris _loved _it.

This off fascination kept those dreams vibrant.

Yes. Something had certainly changed.


	16. Chapter 16

Toris found Elizaveta in his chair within the library, reading a book in Polish. All that shimmering and flowering hair fell around her shoulders and back, having been taken down, in addition to a gown dyed a pleasant maroon. That lovely muse did not even notice the other's presence, so after a moment of admiration, Toris placed the book he had read back upon the shelf and selected another, taking the Polish man's seat across from his own.

Finally, the sweet thing looked up.

"Hello, Toris."

"Hello, Elizaveta. How are you doing?"

"I'm just fine. And how are you?"

"I'm fine as well…Although; I had trouble getting to sleep last night." A second for thought. "Has Feliks gotten out of bed yet? I know that he wants to speak with you."

"What does Feliks want to speak about?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. I didn't mean to make it sound so forceful. I just meant he wishes to talk."

"I see." Laughter within a limitation came from those heavenly lips. "Well, I suppose that's what Feliks does best; is talk. Sometimes so much so that he simply can't stop." A simper. "But you likely knew that already. I imagine either if you spend quite a bit of your time together."

"Yes. We do."

A nod was granted to the poor Lithuanian who had been trapped inside a dark prison of familiarity. What _didn't_ he know about Feliks? The notion could simply not register. _Not_ knowing something about Feliks. How every ludicrous.

"What would you say it's like, being around someone so often? I've never done such a thing myself, so I'm curious."

"Well, I'm not quite certain how to describe it, Elizaveta. Feliks and I certainly have an odd sort of bond. We're very near to one another, and he's one of my dearest friends. But we don't seem to get much time alone. However, that's not necessarily either of our faults. The job requires us to communicate almost constantly because we're working _constantly._ We must spend nearly eight hours per day in that office. It would be impossible not to speak, at least sometimes." Those brows furrowed. "I'm not quite certain how it is I feel about our predicament."

"It sounds difficult, to spend such a duration with another person. Goodness, I hope I never have to be married."

Toris exhibited blatant mirth. "Are you suggesting that I'm wed to Feliks?"

"No! No! Of course not!" The siren was laughing as well. "But you must admit, there are certainly some similarities."

"Well, I can agree to that, but I promise you, we're not husband and wife…Or husband. Whatever Feliks would like to consider himself."

"Maybe you're the wife, Toris."

"Oh come now, Elizaveta. You know who the wife would be."

Either of their mouths was bent into terrible shapes.

"You're too hard on poor Feliks. It's not his fault he was born to be so beautiful." The Hungarian had to murder her bliss. "How hard it must be, to be gorgeous. Oh the _agony_ that man must endure!" A falsely dramatic hand sat across the woman's brow. "He's suffering. Clearly."

"Oh, I doubt he's suffering. Something tells me he _adores_ being lovely. But who could argue with a declaration such as yours? You must be right!" Toris layered his own forehead in the same manner Elizaveta did. "Oh goodness, poor Feliks!"

Those sweetened palms served as a cover for the opposite's wringing mounds. "Oh stop! You're far sillier than I ever imagined you to be!"

"My apologies miss." A hidden smirk. "I don't mean to be so ridiculous."

"No; that's quite alright." The beautiful creature shone.

Then there was a slight silence.

"Well…May I ask you a question, Elizaveta?"

"Of course, Toris. Assuming it's not too much for me."

"Oh, no. I was simply wondering how you learned Polish so well. I remember when I first learned it. It was incredibly difficult, not to mention how hard a language is to learn when you can't practice constantly."

"Yes, that's true. I always make sure to read books in Polish and practice speaking when I can. Luckily, I run into Feliks during the gatherings, and what-not. So it's a bit easier for me in that regard. But it certainly requires more than only that…"

"Oh, yes. Of course. But you must have had a countless amount of experience with Polish. Have you ever lived here, Elizaveta?"

"No, but I have visited for months at a time. I've always been very good friends with Feliks, so he's made his home quite open to me. It's unfortunate I haven't been able to visit in so long, but we've managed to keep in touch one way or another."

"Well, how long will you be staying for this visit, Elizaveta?"

"Only a few days, sadly. I've been so preoccupied with all my own matters I can't possibly stay any longer than that, but I truly wish to…" Those neat brows set themselves into a deep plunge. "But right after my return, I know I'll have business to attend to with Mr. Edelstein. Oh Goodness. Polish to Hungarian to German. My poor brain will begin to drain from my ears at this rate. Oh, how I envy both of you. I've got such a slur of languages upon my tongue; I couldn't even begin to sort them out. Excuse me if a German word or two come from my mouth. It's certainly not intentional."

"Oh, no! You've been doing just fine. I'm sure I'm much worse with Lithuanian. Even after all these years, I make little mistakes. It's a difficult feat, to speak another tongue fluently."

"You must be pulling my leg, Toris. Your Polish is absolutely perfect. If I didn't know any better, I would say you were a native speaker, most certainly. You don't even have an accent or really _anything_ that would lead me to believe otherwise."

"You're far too kind, Elizaveta."

Then a sort of comfortable stillness drained into the atmosphere, either presenting a dainty smile to the other while hearts glowed in florid light.

What an odd euphoria.

What a stance ecstasy.

The door opened. And the glass angel shattered.

"Oh, there you two are! I've been looking _absolutely_ everywhere for either of you and now I've found you!"

Oh joy. The Polish man.

"Listen, are either of you prepared for breakfast? It's very close to being finished."

"Oh, yes. I'm perfectly famished." The Hungarian goddess rose, that happy gown flowing around her wondrous figure as the pristine petals of a crimson rose opening to the sun's abundance.

Poor Toris went blind.

"Darling, are you coming?"

"Oh! Yes, Feliks. I was simply thinking a very heavy thought."

The blond monster grinned. "Well, forgive me for tarnishing your epiphany. Let's get something to eat."

So that little band did.

The events played out just as they did the day before. Toris' poor and hackneyed mind surrounding that lovely woman. Sifting through her hair. Holding those delicate fingers. Embracing that wondrous body. Sleeping upon her fragile shoulder. The fantasy shattered by an inquiry from the Polish man. The dream state reassumed.

Eventually, Toris allowed himself painful conscience and withdrew from that sugared pink bubble eating him alive. He could feel his presence was no longer desired as either companion wanted to discuss matters only dear friends could discuss.

So he withdrew to his chamber, where he ate the remains that pink bubble had provided.

And he dreamt of all the things he was and was not.

What trouble these follies were.

What horrors bliss provided.


	17. Chapter 17

After those wondrous few days, Elizaveta returned home. She packed her things with an air of certain regret and looked at either of her companions with a wallowing good-bye. The received embraces coded in honey and presses upon the cheek, left of her magnanimous presence was that enchanting scent, sitting directly at the door way.

Toris felt as though that hapless siren had stolen a grand fragment of his choking heart.

He shuddered when the other took him into those arms.

"Well, Goodness, Love. You don't have to be so very surprised." Feliks blinded any words the Lithuanian had with that lovely set of lips, which somehow cut as sandpaper.

"I'm sorry, Feliks. You just caught me with a thought in my head."

"Oh? Well, what was that?"

"Simply, I wished every day could be so care free." A pained sigh pulled from the man's throat. "I regret the fact that we have to go back to work so soon after such a short break. It feels like Elizaveta wasn't here hardly any time at all."

"Oh, I know darling." Another shameless and agonizing press. "I know. I wish she could have stayed longer as well. Goodness, I haven't seen her in ages…" The stray blond follicles were pushed behind the man's ear. "Oh well. Not much that can be done now."

"Feliks, my I ask you something about her?"

"Certainly. After all, she's no longer here, is she?'

"Well…What were the rumors about her and that-what was it?"

"Roderich Edelstein?"

"Yes. That sounds about right."

"Well, quite honestly, the rumors are far more scandalous than the truth. But I'll tell you anyway, since you're curious." The Polish man's thumb brushed past the tip off his companion's nose, as though attempting to remove something from it. "Let's go to our office first, and I'll tell you everything I know."

What a terrible gossip that man was.

He was worse than an actual woman, talking shit about his greatest of friends.

What had Feliks told Elizaveta of him?

Toris' thought was broken by a loving hand clamping upon his defenseless wrist and either of them running up those winding stairs and through those torturous hallways, even more serpentine then the python's dance.

Finally, they reached that room and the terrible speaker landed at his desk, awaiting his companion to do the very same.

So he did.

"Anyway." The blond thing smiled, that curl strewn with grime. "The rumors are that she and Roderich have been having something of an affair, even though neither of them is married at this point. Also, that he had gotten her pregnant, but she supposedly miscarried before her signs really showed, although, she was out of work for quite a long while. Perhaps even a month. Although, no one really knows exactly how long she was out for. To either of these rumors, Elizaveta told me they were false. She did admit that she found Roderich Edelstein handsome, even though she's uncertain of how she feels about him as of now. I think he loves her, but I don't have much proof."

"Well, what proof _do_ you have?"

"Just the way he looks at that poor woman. I mean; goodness. If they're ever at the same event, they're always found together. I'm certain that's his doing. Sometimes you can catch Elizaveta with this irritated look on her face while speaking to him, but Roderich has this lonely gleam in his eyes. And this is an utterly serious man."

"Would you say he's handsome, Feliks?"

"Will you be offended if I said yes?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Well, in that case; he's gorgeous. Roderich could give a heart attack to any woman. He has this deep black hair and such wonderful blue eyes…"

"Is he more attractive than I am?"

"Oh, Toris. I didn't mean it that way. I think you're the most beautiful man in the world. You're both incredibly attractive; insanely so."

Those brows furrowed.

"Toris! You're so handsome, I can't even contain myself! Please don't look so troubled. I'm sorry. If it's any conciliation, I wasn't able to sleep without you at my side. I sat awake all night, nearly tearing out my hair because I didn't have your heart beat to lull me to sleep. Do you know how silly that is, Darling? It's absolutely stupid."

"Feliks, you don't need to speak anymore; I understand."

That blond brow was wrought with trouble. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Feliks. Let's just go to work now. We must have some very serious catching up to do."

The blond did not say anymore, concerned he would damage his love even more so. However, that was not the reason for Toris' upset at all. He was simply worried of the fierce competition.

This Roderich seemed to be quite the bitter adversary.

Could Toris give a woman a heart attack? He had to wonder.

The day trudged on, the minutes each seeming to choke and go into terrible seizures. They walked by slowly with canes and limps, each seeming to place a deformed performance against the clock. The mountain of horrid work did not even throw them along. The men labored for eight entire hours and it seemed as though twenty-four were actually set to flame.

Time placed beneath water.

It all ticked by so very lethargically.

The rushing thought did not even aid in this mangled triathlon. It only muddled that day into a pulp.

Toris and Feliks went to bed that evening with exhaustion lining their gazes. Their corpses hit the sheets as a desperate mallet to the defenseless drum, and anatomies once so separate laced together as components in the braid.

"I missed you, Toris." The voice was pliable.

"I missed you too, Feliks."

There was something very true within the statement. It was so odd to sleep alone, without the weight of the other at that lonesome flank. To have no one to occupy that gaping void. To have no heart to listen to. To have no one listening to your heart.

"I love you, Toris."

"I love you too, Feliks…I'm glad to have you back."

After so much strange solitude, their lips melded together, love exchanged through honeyed movement of the tongue. Those organs wrestled, bodies beginning to follow the same sort pattern.

What was that foolish Toris thinking? What was this sudden and moronic attraction to that awful siren? Already, he had won the heart of the lovely Feliks, who seemed to love him unconditionally, despite all those short- comings, no matter how small they were. He was simply being ridiculous. Toris knew he was.

An ugly blunder of the cracking mind.

That absence made the crux far fonder.

Toris and Feliks made love, after so many horrendous and passionless nights. They likely needed that short break. Now all those sore wounds seemed to close with undeniable ease, with moans bursting all throughout the room.

The pair actually slept.

Goodness, what a relief.


	18. Chapter 18

Then, things fells back into the mundane. The work. The nights. The entire routine, all in a sequence with no new components added to it. So Toris went back to his odd depression. The same melancholy that attended to that pattern of never ending days. There was no finish. There was no death. Only work. Only papers.

Feliks could feel it within his counterpart; poor Toris wishing to tear out that wondrous oaken hair. The same hair The Polish man enjoyed stroking.

But a voice was not raised to this routine mourning. It was simply accepted, as nothing could ease the other's heartache.

Although, Feliks tried to distract him, despite that feeling of irritation radiating through the pores of the Lithuanian. Feliks held that machine, that breaking slave and he kissed him softly. Even when the terrible heat seared his pliable lips.

"Toris, take a break. Go sleep. Please." Another touch upon that soured cheek. "You've been working entirely too hard lately. You deserve a rest."

There was not a reply.

"Toris, please." A hand secured another hand. "I don't want you to be so depressed. Not any longer. It's making me quite sad."

The one being ordered lifted his sorry eyes to meet to the ever probing gaze of the blond, who had a genuine anguish and concern strewn about his visage.

"I'll take care of this nonsense."

"No. I can't do that to you."

"Of course you can, darling. I _want _you to."

"No, I-" The stupid thing was at a deficiency of words and coherent thought. He did not even know what he desired anymore. What was it exactly that he needed? He drank too much when his cells demanded nourishment. Ate too much when dehydration engulfed his frantic blood.

Now, his companion stared at him, worry infecting him when he had done nothing to deserve such upset. Feliks sometimes bit at raw nerves, but he tried to bandage the lacerations when he made them. He bandaged them when they were not even his own. Now he volunteered to take the other's stress, when those deeds did not fit punishments.

"Feliks, come with me…"

The opposite looked uncomfortable.

"Toris…I think- Someone has to finish all this. I don't want either of us to be yelled at, or anything of the sort. You should rest for an hour or so, don't you think? Then one of us can keep working. And look, I'm almost done with my pile…"

The brunette's eyes said, 'Are you sure?'

"Listen, I'm certain about this. Go lie down."

So the battered thing followed the orders of the assumed doctor and collapsed into his sheets, burying that hackneyed face into a mess of silk.

He couldn't even sleep.

Not until his partner joined him. It was simply too odd.

Fortunately, he did.

Toris sis not even shift when he felt those arms claim him.

"I missed you." Feliks kissed the back of Toris' neck. "I changed my mind. It was too strange without you."

There was only a mild noise from that sore throat.

"I know you probably don't want to hear about this." Touch. "But-" Smooch. "There's another ball coming up…" Pop. "I just thought-" Press. "That I should tell you."

Toris sighed.

"I know, Love. But it will all be alright. We'll even get to leave the house for a few days and everything." Those quick hands began to unfasten the buttons of the dead man's blouse. "Maybe you'll feel better. Elizaveta will be there. You both can talk. She told me she enjoyed speaking to you." Palms devoured that chest. "I think she wants to be your friend."

"Truly?"

"Yes, truly. Elizaveta is nice, isn't she?"

"I think so…"

A moment of silence came and Feliks' touch found what it was looking for. "Ah. There it is." Toris' heart. "I've got you."

Hands sat on top of Feliks' flesh and finally, those worn green eyes closed.

There was something incredibly comforting about having another place such affection upon your heart. Just resting their hands in that little patch, channeling all the love they can into your own veins. It intoxicated the Lithuanian, rendering him lethargic and utterly useless.

He slept only minutes after that.

And that frayed mind drifted into another realm of sunset flavored clouds and women named Elizaveta. His core sunk into her soft hands, hide melding into any shape that terrible siren desired. The promise of her friendship drove him to euphoria, and the grand part of that twisted fog had lifted when Toris reopened his sight. Finally, the blood shot eyes were lucid.


	19. Chapter 19

Either man left upon that heavy voyage, their bags in hand, their heads filled with the distraction of another one of those moronic balls; this one was in Austria.

At least Elizaveta would be there.

Gorgeous Elizaveta.

The entire ride over, the Lithuanian man stared out the window, thinking of that heavenly angel with all her golden brown tresses and those sights, decorated in the finest emerald hue.

He must have seen her within the clouds. That was where that ever wondering gaze was directed to.

"Toris, what are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just…Just about everything, I guess. But it's all so muddled up it becomes nothing at all."

"I'm in one of those moods as well, OI suppose." Feliks lazily lidded his vision. "Oh goodness, it's been a lethargic day. My, I truly wish I could wear a dress to these things. But I would be ridiculed to no end."

"Your hobbies aren't so strange, Feliks. I think you look quite lovely in a gown."

"Oh, Toris. Even after all these years, you still manage to make me blush. Come here a moment, please."

The dreamy one moved to the other side of the carriage and landed next to his Polish doll, the very figurine he grew so tired of, only to be captured within a loving embrace.

"You're so handsome, my darling. Out of all the man in the world, I get the most attractive one. How lucky I must be." A gentle kiss.

The receiver truly gave his heart, trying no tot cringe.

"What are you going to wear this evening, love?"

"Well, I was going to wear my black outfit-"

"The black one! Oh no, you simply can't where that one."

"And why not?" Toris found himself to be irritated.

"You simply can't wear black! How boring that would be!"

"Feliks, please don't tell me what to wear. I would like to think I can choose that much for myself."

"What in the world is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." A exasperated sigh. "Nothing at all."

Feliks' brows dipped. "Well, I'm sorry. You can wear whatever you like. I didn't mean to upset you." The embrace was shattered, a sensitive porcelain vase to the clutches of gravity. "You've been so moody lately. It's like walking across eggshells."

Toris returned to his side, fantasizing while staring from that glorious window, saying nothing at all.

Weighty hours later, they finally came to Vienna, the sky still azure and joyous. Their carriage had been traveling for several days and seeing that wondrous sight, a mansion to rest inside and soft beds to lie upon, not those of inns, was simply heavenly. Either man dropped their mild agitation and came outside that horrid and portable prison to meet their host.

"Feliks, Roderich is hosting this party, if he not?"

"Yes, that's correct. We'll say hello momentarily."

"Can you speak German fluently?"

Feliks knew such a grand mess of tangled languages, the Lithuanian could not remember which ones he spoke fluently, which ones he only knew a little of and which ones he did not know at all. There seemed to be such abundance, it was truly unclear how even the speaker of all these twisting tongues kept track.

"Of course! That's precisely why I was invited. I'm not all too familiar with Roderich, but I am familiar with many of the balls that all those little aristocrats throw, and stubbing _my_ toe is never a good idea. Why, I'll just make all their capitals Warsaw, and then I won't invite them to _my_ parties. They'll have to watch form the streets, _wishing_ they could attend."

The companion was silent.

"Oh come now, Toris. That was _a joke_. It's _funny._"

A fulsome bliss was given, utterly cheap and nearly contemptible.

"Well, you're no fun at all!"

But before any sound argument could be produced, they came to the door, and Feliks knocked upon it with a vigor found only in very small children and very excitable Poles. (Usually, these men were named Feliks.)

They were both somewhat surprised when it was Roderich himself who opened the door.

Immediately, he and Feliks began to speak in rapid German, words shot back and forth quickly as bullets in mid-battle. None of those syllables collided. But Toris managed not to understand a one of them.

However, he did take that opportunity to look upon the face of his assumed opponent.

Goodness. How right Feliks had been.

Roderich was incredibly handsome. Skin white as snow. Hair black as night. Two eyes the pigmentation of emotive sapphires. They were orbs that glanced into your soul and stole a section of you as a souvenir. Not to mention the beautiful assembly of that face itself. Everything clicked together so incredibly well, and even those glasses, something one might see as a flaw, added an amount of beauty to that smooth complexion.

Toris felt his heart curl into his stomach, writhing within the acid and churning against those crying walls.

But then his hand was taken and acknowledgment came to the one who offered such a weighty threat. They exchanged small and deformed smiles, built of obligation. Then they were welcomed inside as the servants took their bags.

Toris listened absently as they made their way down those halls, and were shown a single room. Something was said to Feliks, and that eccentric blond answered with a burst of bubbly joy. Then another exchange. And formalities were offered, once again.

After that, Roderich went away.

"What exactly just happened, Feliks?"

"Oh well, the ball will be in a few hours, and until then we're welcome to do whatever we please. Roderich said we can look around, and if we get lost, simply ask one of the servants to lead us in the right direction."

"But Feliks, I don't speak German…"

"Oh yes. I'll simply do all the talking. Don't you worry about that." The blond sat upon that wondrous bed. "For now, I'm going to sleep. Goodness, we've been traveling a long time." Eyes closed. "Will you join me?"

"Well…Would you mind if I took a look around?"

"But Toris, you just told me you can't speak German."

"I know, but I still want to see this place. I can be sure not to get lost, if I only remember my way back."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. I am."

"Well, alright." Feliks stretched. "You know where I'll be, love. Please come back soon. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

No you won't. You'll be relived, you liar.

Toris left that chamber as his lover sank into a pit built of exhaustion, and he ran all about those halls, the home of that handsome Austrian even more ornate and lavish than his own. It had all the same component s of that palace he had grown so familiar with, but there was excess to this place, as the sunflower that only kept growing as a fatal cancer. Larger and larger until it touched the very heavens.

Toris felt even more threatened.

But those feelings died once he reached the garden, for it was far too beautiful to even have such wallowing thoughts inside. Its hide could not be scathed by a thing stupid as jealousy, and the Lithuanian's jaw dropped as though its weight became unbearable.

Oh, the flowers! They were gems upon their own worth. Roses taking the form of rubies, vines tender and healthy as emeralds. Buds rich as poignant sapphires. It was a feast for the eyes, those blossoms covering every square of that marvelous court.

The ones visiting that area were even beautiful.

They looked as though they were already prepared for the ball, layered within expensive gowns and tremendous outfits. This fairy world was simply ludicrous.

And it utterly took the intruder, as though he was witnessing Eden with his own sight. Before the apple. Before the tragedy.

It captivated him for an entire hour before he went back, his mind blooming in furtive thought thick as steel, those little beauties speaking to him, each with a different and strange message to convey.

But it was time to prepare now.

Feliks was doing the very same, dressed inside a gaudy red get-up. Those terrible green eyes punched from his skull in harsh contrast.

"Hello, darling! How was your adventure?"

"It was fine." A sudden agitation entered his blood. "You're getting ready, I see."

"Yes. Do you like it? Oh, goodness. I just didn't know if this was the right outfit, I haven't worn men's clothing in so long…But I look right? Don't I?"

Of course not. You're loud as hell.

"I think it was a fine choice. Are you happy with it?"

"I believe so. Well, it's certainly too late now! Quickly, Toris put on your outfit. I'll be brushing out my hair."

"Feliks, May I ask why you keep it so long?"

"Haven't I told you a hundred times already?"

"Yes, but I forget every single one."

The odd creature managed a smile. "Well, I simply like having it long. Lengthily hair is always lovely, don't you think? I'm so envious of Elizaveta for that very reason. Her hair curls and winds. Mine is so straight."

"Yes, but its shiny."

"Thank you, Toris." That perpetual ribbon was torn from those tresses, a rabid brush tearing through those nonexistent tangles.

He was always trying too hard to be perfect. Always striving for an element of gorgeous he already owned. It was mind numbing at times, to watch this creature destroy itself over a flaw that did not even take place about its skin. The siren that devoured itself, scratching and yanking at its own flesh.

"Feliks, you look nice."

The face smiled within the mirror. "You're very sweet, Love."

Toris began to prepare. Silk to flesh. The teeth of a comb to soft oaken follicles. More light to those shining eyes. More blood to the pounding crux. More thoughts of the Goddess.

But those thoughts were reserved for the heathens.

Then they found themselves emptying into the ballroom, with all the rest of the attendants, cattle bathed in ornaments. Goodness, how attractive it all was, this ridiculous party.

Regardless, he searched for her, amongst all the pearls and perfume. Amongst the rouge and ringlets. But the crowd did not provide her. Not in the least.

So, after Toris broke away from his Polish queen, he tucked himself within a corner, watching as the others danced with their loved ones.

The lonely man stood with his empty wine glass.

No. No one refilled it. No one at all.

So, he rotted within his place, uncertain of how to dance, that frown becoming something of a pock mark across those lips. Toris relished in his time from Feliks and writhed in his time away from Elizaveta.

But fortune shined upon him, delivering that doll directly into his open hands.

She landed within the same corner.

His heart began to race.

"Good-evening, Toris." Her wine glass was empty as well. "I've been wishing to see you ever since we met last. How have you been?"

"I've been-I've been so..." Brows furrowed. "I don't even know how I've been. My work has kept me so busy. How have you been?"

"Busy. Quite like yourself."

"Oh, I see. Excuse me for saying this, but do you earnestly want to be here?"

The woman looked a bit stunned.

"No, no. Excuse me. I'm simply being rude-"

"No. That's alright. I was taken by surprise. Actually, no. Not exactly. I simply felt off, _not_ attending. But I've seen so much of Roderich lately-" Elizaveta cut herself off. "I would much rather be sleeping, to be honest. And I only tell you this because none of these people understand Polish. I truly hope you don't find me too abrupt or anything of the like, but goodness, I had to tell _someone_…I take it you feel the way, don't you?"

"Why, yes, Elizaveta. I do. Regardless, you look very nice."

"Oh goodness, you're far too kind, Toris."

He most certainly was not. The muse was enchanting. Her hair coiled into a grand mass about her scalp; face painted in all the best pigments. Lips made to be wondrous and deep rouge. Her gown was blue, a light azure that any empress would die to wear about her own figure.

And all those clips she managed to stack within her cluster of shimmering twists.

It was amazing and breath stealing at the same instant.

"Well, I'm hardly being kind, miss. Simply honest."

Oh, the pigmentation of her face.

"Thank you…You look very handsome as well, even if you are dressed in black."

"Whatever do you mean by 'even'?"

"Well, it's not the most colorful of colors, but it's certainly not a _bad_ color. I find it original, because in this entire room of all these colors, you're the only one wearing black. Or at least, the only one I've seen. You're an interesting character."

"I haven't seen a lot of women dressed in blue either."

"Oh, I'm simply strange."

"Then we're both strange."

The doll beamed in her light. A chandelier in the sun's grip.

"Elizaveta, you're far too bright for this room. Why don't we go outside, where it's a little less…stuffy?"

Those cheeks turned cherry. "Why didn't you tell me you were so charming? Have you been sitting in this lonesome corner the entire time?"

"Well, not the _entire_ time. I did do a little wondering about. But not all too much."

"Then I agree with you. This room is too stuffy. Let's go outside. I know Roderich has a lovely garden."

"Yes. Let's go there."

So they went to the garden, hand sucking upon hand. And that pair landed upon a bench composed of smooth stone, staring at the moon wearing purple clouds.

"Toris, I genuinely hate those parties."

"Truly?"

"Yes! Truly. It takes serious skill to attend to these ridiculous gatherings, and I simply don't possess it. I believe it's a mix of charisma, dance, and charm and these things tend not to mix well for me. I can't dance and my charm is ruined by my lack of charisma."

"Oh, that's nonsense. I bet you're giving yourself far too little credit."

"No! I'm serious, really. Why were you all alone when I found you? You're quite charismatic."

"Not charismatic…When you live with Feliks you tend to pick up a few of his tricks."

Mirth.

"Well, the truth is, I'm not too thrilled to be here. I must suffer from the same disease you _claim_ to have. I can't dance very well and in all honesty, I can't speak to anyone because I don't know a _word_ of German. Not one word."

"But Feliks dragged you here?"

"Why yes he did, my dear."

"Oh, Toris. You poor thing. It was so sweet of you to come, but you can't be enjoying yourself. I always hate going to paces when I can't speak the language. But I bet you could dance, if only you had someone to dance _with_."

Is that a challenge, Miss Elizaveta?"

"It most certainly is." The slender thing rose, offering her hand to the lost man, and their bodies joined in that typical pose, arms to their assigned places. The waist. The shoulder. With swaying steps, they began to move without music or word.

In that moment, their attention melded together, two cords of the same hue twining. In that passing, they understood one another perfectly. That little princess forced at the side of a man she only considered a friend and the unhappy king who was eaten beneath protocol until those lungs were utterly flat.

They suffered from the same flavor of sorrow, living lives they did not wish to live.

No attention was paid to the dance itself. All importance was granted to the expressions exhibited by the two. After all, that waltz was so axiomatic those poor aristocrats could perform it within a drunken sleep.

Then suddenly, the pair stopped.

"Elizaveta, would you mind coming to visit again? I know Feliks enjoys your company…"

"Yes. I would love to. I was just scared to death that I had gotten on either of your nerves the last time."

"Oh, of course not. We love your company."

The nymph's mounds curled into the most pleasing of shapes. "Thank you, Toris. I enjoy your company as well. I-"

The woman was cut off by the sound of a door opening. Roderich intruded upon their time together, tarnishing that gem of a period. The Lithuanian's heart sunk.

The Austrian man said something to her, his words somewhat soft but with an edge. An upset quelled by manners. Then Elizaveta said something back, taking her arms from her instantaneous companion and adjusting that twinkling cerulean gown. It went back and forth for a moment, and the Toris was acknowledged by that Goddess he so admired.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go back now. I would love to see you and Feliks again sometime very soon. I-I hope you're not upset, Toris." Those lovely brows knitted. "Thank you for dancing with me."

"Of course, Elizaveta. Have a lovely evening."

It was then that the guardian and his fairy returned to their celebration and the pauper was left to his memory, heart racing of the mere proximity.

After allowing that event to flash before his mind a good three minutes, he returned to his Polish man, who was conversing joyously with a Frenchman just as fashionable as he was.

And after that, he ventured back to his pathetic corner, in hopes that shimmering woman would locate him again.


	20. Chapter 20

Toris found her within one of those rented chambers, listening to the Austrian man once again speaking to her within that serrated, yet somehow gentle tone. The aristocrat within him tarnished the violence his core exhibited. Elizaveta would argue gently back, only to have those counterpoints laced with fire.

Goodness, what was making him so very angry? What was it that the woman had done to earn such an ill treatment?

Toris put a stop to it by simply knocking upon her gaping door frame, a stare sent to the cool sapphires the Austrian covered with polished glasses.

"Excuse me." He did not care if he was being rude. "I'd like to speak to Elizaveta a moment."

The blatant foreigner with his odd Polish was met with a stare of encased conflagration. Roderich's handsome face was bleached white, the dying rage within him so very hot it was pushing upon blue flames. He said something. Then Elizaveta smacked him directly in the mouth. A wild scream of Hungarian agony rushed from her lips and her baggage was thrown with feral energy from her bed to the marble floor. Feet stamped, threatening to strike the other once more, as though that sweetened siren was willing to tear limbs from his soon to be carcass.

Finally, Roderich left the room, shaken with both rage and fright.

The porthole slammed behind him.

"Elizaveta are you alright?"

"No!" In exhaustion, the woman collapsed upon her bed, those glorious fields of green set to the embers. "No. I'm just- that stupid man, he-" Tears eradicated that climbing temperature. "I hate him sometimes, I-"

"Oh, Elizaveta, please don't cry…" Toris sat next to her upon that ruined ocean of sheets. "Please. It's alright."

Without even questioning that man, the dejected thing stole him within an embrace, arms around flesh as the boa constrictor to her prey. There was a grand pall layering her heart, and Toris could not see through it.

However, he did take a wrong pleasure in the affection he was given, nearly _rolling_ in the opportunity of such an occurrence. And he was not freed for solid minutes.

"I'm sorry, Toris." It was a disappointment when that companion was set free. "I'm sorry. Roderich has been so intolerable lately."

"How so, Elizaveta? Would you like to speak about it?"

"No…It's not right to complain about others behind their backs. But I'll say we've been having problems with one another. And he's making me a bit insane with all his terrible accusations."

"I'm sorry; is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"No. But thank you. I'll be fine. I just need to think…What did you come here for? To say Good-bye?"

"Yes." Toris brushed a strand of her hair from that exasperated visage, all those ringlets churning inside that ephemeral wave of grand emotion. "I wanted to wish you a safe journey before I left. Feliks and I will be heading home soon."

"You were only here for one day? How long did it take you to travel?"

"Quite a while, but we have business to attend to, so we couldn't stay for very long."

"Oh, poor Toris…"Her gentle touch lied upon his own. "You didn't even have any fun, did you?"

"No. But that's not important. It would be best if we returned soon. I don't want to neglect my work any longer."

There was a blossoming sympathy within her gaze. "Well, listen…I'll come to see you both very soon, if that would be alright. You're welcome to send me a letter, telling me what time would be best. You're both horribly busy and I know Feliks has my address."

"Yes. We will. But you're welcome any time." Toris managed to bend his lips into something pleasant. "Hopefully, I'll see you again in the near future."

"I'm sure you will…But before you leave, I'd like to give to give you something."

A look of puzzlement.

"Please close your eyes."

Toris followed those instructions with utter faith, and mere seconds later, he found a pair of lips upon his own. Sweet fingers grasped his clothing and those two drew nearer to one another. Their cruxes danced while that blood sped through their bodies.

Unfortunately, it did not last long.

They stared at one another.

"I'm sorry…I'm not quite sure what I was thinking-"

Her words were marred by another gathering of lips.

"That's alright, Elizaveta." A press to her cheek. "You must have taken my thoughts a moment." To her other cheek. "Please have a safe journey back. I hope everything goes well with Roerich. I'm sure he only needs to calm down."

"Yes…Good-bye, Toris."

"Good-bye, Elizaveta."

The porcelain figurine, with her face painted such deepened rouge, was left to her discretion, and the donor of the deluge of red came back to his nest, where his other packed those terrible and hateful bags.

"How was Elizaveta, Toris?"

"She's just fine. She'll be coming to see us soon, hopefully."

"Well, that would be nice. It's always wonderful to have company."

"Yes. I couldn't agree more."


	21. Chapter 21

Those bodies coiled together beneath the veil of covers, moonlight washing nude forms in soft light. Mouths nipped at flesh. Palms devoured skin, Saliva was exchanged.

"Oh…Toris."

The Lithuanian's tongue lapped at his partner's chest, capturing those buds and savoring them as sweetened candy. They became taunt, and those mounds spread in pleasure. Feliks' digits searched through that nest of oaked tresses.

"Hmm…" The blond moaned as those teeth secured one of those nipples and tugged. Oh, Toris knew just what that faux princess loved.

Already, he was incredibly hard.

Another shameless cry. His poor hands were mercilessly gripping the sheets.

Toris kissed the opposite's stomach. His belly button. His thighs.

"Oh, darling, please…"

That mouth engulfed the head of the Polish man's member, sucking upon it gently, pulling at the shaft with a hungry set of fingers. Toris' head dipped lower.

It was difficult to imagine her at times such as this. With another man's cock between his lips. And she was coming. Miss Elizaveta was arriving in merely two days.

The Lithuanian closed his eyes.

"Ah-! Toris…"

Please stop speaking. Please.

That working man drew a little harder upon that swelling organ.

Yes…Elizaveta would be here soon. They had sent her letters, which she answered promptly, and this gorgeous and open day burst into the sun's favor.

It was as waiting for a grand holiday, that one shining morning that only came once every three hundred and sixty-five days. Awaiting Elizaveta was awaiting the sun after an entire month of sour rain. That anticipation was enough to slaughter the desperate man.

Now, here he was. Having sex with Feliks. Wishing to make love with Elizaveta just after punching that goddamn Roderich in the mouth.

Oh, he was well aware that the Austrian did not like him. Without a single word to the aristocrat's ear, Toris had made himself something of a bitter enemy.

What did that man know?

"Ah-!" A horrid gasp. "Toris…"

That bottle of oil was handed to the one between those pallid legs, the same bottle of oil that always rested upon their pillow just at this moment. The same bottle that always seemed to be used.

Then, so softly, he touched those tips to the Polish man's opening, either managing an easy entrance. The victim, that hapless and trapped man, screamed in ecstasy.

Goodness that creature was noisy. _Always so noisy._

Fingers began to scissor, preparing that howling thing.

Toris often questioned how good his sex felt. Was this odd man simply so incredibly sensitive? Had the other learned all the nooks and crannies his body supplied? Did he know subconsciously where all these little nerve endings were? Did he push at them as the strings of an instrument, strumming, allotting those tips a sort of horrendous dance?

It seemed so incredibly mangled that anything could be so enjoyable.

And just then, the blond took his release, that essence spilling inside the brunette's mouth and all about those unprotected fingers. That seed was swallowed. It had nowhere else to travel to.

Formerly clean flesh was wiped about the cloth mess surrounding them.

"I'm sorry. That was wonderful, love." Feliks was breathing hard. "Do you still want me?"

"Of course. Do you still want me to have you?"

"Yes, darling. I do." A slight moan. "Are you ready?"

A solitary nod. And those legs engulfed the other's torso. A bit of lubrication was applied to Toris' member, and slowly, he sank in.

Moan. Moans upon either side of hat falling wall.

Needy palms ate the other's waist, a grip to the back if the blond man's thigh. A leg raised into the air. Hips worked. Jaws dropped.

The atmosphere became over inhabited with Feliks' noise, those yells growing something wild. Grips turned to claws, those movements needier.

A whine.

Toris welded those sights shut.

It had been a while.

With a woman.

So long, the Lithuanian was uncertain what exactly the difference was. Times came when he nearly despised himself for taking any amount of pleasure from another man's anatomy. That blond thing. That blond thing with his blond moans. That blond thin with his blond moans and his bleach blond personality.

So _goddamn_ blond.

"Aaah…" Toris bit down upon his lower lip, stifling what noise he allowed free.

"Oh, god-!" Gasp. "Please, harder."

With a touch of bile, that command was followed. And the little bird sang. The. Little. Blond. Bird.

"Ah!"

Oh goodness. Those poor sheets. Those poor mangled sheets.

They tore them into pieces.

Toris began to pound harder, grasping at those hips, stealing what skin he could possibly get a hold on. He drank of the other's body. Taking in all of that sour shame and all the horrid euphoria that went along with it.

The embarrassment was erased with thoughts of the Hungarian gem. That slender waist, those lovely hips. That grand mess of gorgeous and curling ringlets. How he desired to run those starving hands though those wondrous tresses. To touch those happy thighs. To taste every square inch of her.

The kiss she had granted him was simply not enough. It was the scent to the long awaited meal. The stupid tease that was meant to drive any man insane.

How much of her had Roderich experienced?

Those hips bucked even harder.

"Ah-! Darling…"

Toris had not made soft lobe in a while.

Hell. He had not made _love_ in a while.

How monotonous this life was, caught beneath the Polish man; catching the Polish man beneath his own weight. Owning every _blond_ drop of him. Every drop he did not desire.

Then the orgasm came.

"Aah!" And those forms came into an embrace, so the immigrant would not have to witness the look upon his lover's visage. Their chests pressed together, raw flesh kissing. Sore sports slamming.

Feliks' sweet hands held Toris' back. "Mmm. My love. You've been so passionate lately."

Lips sunk into one another for the mere purpose of quieting the beast. Tongues wrestled. Then they fell apart, and corpses were separate.

Feliks got up from their ruined nest, to clean. That sullied night gown ate his body as a poor cover to a beaten table. And it was his fault.

"…Did I hurt you?"

"Oh? No, sweetheart. That felt good."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, love. I'm alright." That mess of hair was adjusted. "You've been a bit strange lately. Is everything normal? Are you happy because Elizaveta is coming to visit?"

"Yes…" An exhausted sigh. "Yes. I am happy. Taking time off to see her is always refreshing. I like how I no longer need to work. And she is nice to be around."

"That she is." A small simpler. "I'm glad you're becoming companions with her. I was so worried about you. You seemed to be so sad, but mixing up this life can do us _both_ some good."

"Yes." the poor man was going to sleep.

The sour sun glowing. "I'll leave you be, darling. Sweet dreams."

But it was far too late. He was already asleep.

Feliks left the dead man alone.

And the dead man drifted into the Goddess' arms, where he felt he belonged.

The insufferable and fair haired one returned, to wrap himself around that drunken entity, induced by all his dreams and shimmering promises.

Enticed by _her_ arrival.


	22. Chapter 22

Toris was waiting by the door when that angel arrived, bags in hand and a glittering smile sewn upon her lips. Her hair was bound back as it usually was when the woman wished to look her finest, with flowers present within that wondrous nest of ringlets.

Today, she wore white.

Toris' heart melted within his ribcage.

Poor man.

"Hello, Elizaveta." Those cheeks burned white-hot. Was it completely obvious? Was it apparent at all?

"Hello, Toris." A peck to the cheek.

"Hello, Elizaveta!" Feliks came down stairs and embraced his companion, receiving the exact same treatment. A kiss upon the visage. But his did not glow as Toris' did. Not at all. It was as though someone had merely brushed past him, nothing worth any amount of shock.

How ungrateful.

The women began to chat as the man stood by and watched that painting with animated subjects. The goddess and the wanton whore.

Well. Perhaps that was a bit cruel.

Feliks only _seemed_ to be a whore. His type of swagger matched that mentality perfectly. But he lacked the crime. The Polish man only pretended. Just as he pretended to be a woman.

He did a good job of that as well.

"Why don't we ask Toris what he wants to do today? Toris!"

"Oh, yes?"

"What do you think we should do with Miss Elizaveta?"

Undress her.

Touch her.

Make her cry.

Ahem.

"Well, perhaps we can show her the town, or take a walk outside. Unless the journey was too much. Perhaps she would like to rest."

The Hungarian doll considered the notion a moment. "Well, it was quite the trip. However, I don't feel tired. I was looking forward to seeing the both of you instead of going right to sleep."

"Oh! What a sweet woman!" Feliks brushed a bit of that blond hair behind his ear. "But you must be far more exhausted than you're revealing. Either that or it's the simple adrenaline of being awake so very long. How difficult it must be to rest in one of those idiotic carriages. Oh goodness, I _know_ what a struggled it is."

"Are you insisting, Feliks?"

That laugh gone far too bubbly inhabited the entire room.

"No, no. Only making a powerful suggestion."

"I see." That mirth. "I might take your forceful suggestion and do just that. Perhaps I am more exhausted then I actually know. Of course, if neither of you mind. I would hate to be so incredibly rude."

"Darling, you aren't rude if you listen to me." Feliks smirked. The brunette writhed within his dislike, striking as a harsh flash of cruel lightning.

"I'll go to sleep, then." Those plump and deep mounds curved. "But don't you allow me to sleep all too long. Please. Wake me when you feel I've had enough rest."

"Oh, sweetheart. You're too much. Go dream. We'll wake you when dinner is ready, if you aren't up at that time."

"Whatever you like, Feliks. After all, you are the boss."

More boisterous joy and the petit queen climbed those horrendous stairs, waving to her companions. And they waved in return. As soon as Elizaveta disappeared, Feliks slammed his lips against Toris'.

"Thank God!" A miniscule embrace and a whisper. "Toris, do you want to take this opportunity to make love? I've wanted you all day, but we were so occupied taking care of the papers and I was so afraid Elizaveta might show up…"

"Feliks, have some decency. We could still be caught. It's not as though she can't simply wake up and seek us out."

"Oh, come now. You know that poor woman is going to become unconscious the _moment_ her presses to the sheets. Now come up stairs!"

"Feliks-!"

"What Toris? What's wrong?"

"It's just-oh, I don't mean to sound so rude, but you're quite loud when we come together. Perhaps it would be better if…If you took care of it yourself. I mean, we were only coupled a few days before. Aren't you sore at all?"

"No, and that's precisely the problem, love. I _adore_ it when you make me sore." Feliks sat inside Toris' ear, a hand lapping at his chest. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard." Then the Polish man captured the victim's earlobe and suckled upon it lightly.

That whore.

That goddamn whore.

"Well-! Fine, Feliks. But you _must_ be quiet. The entire mansion will here you, otherwise."

"Whatever you want, darling." Palms connected. And then Toris was dragged up those risers. "We'll be quite about it."

They were indeed quick about it. And quiet.

Toris collapsed against the ruined mattress. All while Feliks kissed him in about a thousand different places. A certain flavor of self hatred and crippling shame ate him alive. Horrible emotion devoured him whole. And now, that figure was fraught with exhaustion and could not move. Toris could not run and pretended it had not occurred.

Nope. He was stuck.

"Hmm. My baby knows just how to please me. I wouldn't trade you for anyone in the world."

"Feliks, do you mean that?"

"Of course I do. I love you, Toris. You're very handsome, and you're just what I enjoy."

Oh wonderful. Guilt upon guilt.

The other did not speak. Simply, he turned to that off lothario and wrapped him within a wondrous embrace, touching their lips together in a sweet kind of off passion. A passion grown from obligation and a sour repentance.

I'm sorry, Feliks.

I wish I could say the same.

"My darling…"

"Feliks, I'm going to leave now. I'm sorry. I'm still paranoid about Elizaveta finding either of us like this." A press in apology. "I love you."

"I love you too, Toris." And another in return. "I'll see you a little later. Thank you."

"Of course."

And the man made his escape, finding himself within those grand hall ways, wearing clothing that had been kept upon the floor.

For hours he traveled within his mind looking out windows. Thinking. Sitting in his room. Thinking. Lying within his bed, Thinking. Who did he love, and how much did he harbor these emotions for them? The introduction of that beautiful succubus seemed to send his entire universe into an all consuming tornado. Everything was uprooted and spun around as noodles to a revolving fork. Nothing could be done to cease it.

He listed after Elizaveta and felt Guilt for it.

He didn't lust after Feliks and felt guilt for it.

He took a breath and felt guilt for it.

Well. Everything had a price.

The lost thing tore out his hair and wondered deeper into the forest. Until that line was tugged upon.

Dinner had been served.

And the rope got him reeling back. Toris landed at the table, with wondrous food stacked upon his plate. They did not eat this way unless a guest was visiting. The Lithuanian received the same treatment upon his first day as well.

"Thank you for allowing me to sleep so long." That fantastic Hungarian had her hands politely residing against her lap. "You're both very kind friends."

"Oh, it was nothing at all, dear! We understand completely."

"Thank you, Elizaveta." Toris' voice became soft and honeyed. Goodness, it was difficult not to stare upon that heavenly visage with those lengthily lashes and supple lips.

What a fortunate woman to have such features.

But as usual, greedy Feliks stole away all the divine attention, leaving his counterpart to rot within the dying land. That corner- the same one he always found himself squeezed into.

He had grown so familiar with it.

But it was alright. Elizaveta was there to supply some of that fertile light and fruitful beauty. Her appearance took the pain from those biting lacerations, which bled as something terrible. She nearly bandaged them.

Toris went to sleep that night uneasily, longing for a few words with that pretty mannequin. His mouth desired to share ideals with her. About anything. Anything at all. He would get her. He would get her yet. Toris was determined not to have it any other way.

So he dreamt, induced by sickening opium that muse had fed him. There was need for more, a definite fix. And the foolish addict would writhe if he could not have her.

The dry mouth that required nectar.

The thief to the jewel.


	23. Chapter 23

Toris found Elizaveta outside, speaking with the blooms planted near the steps of their home. Her lips were whispering, but there were no sounds meant to accompany those movements. Only silence. A sort of tranquility birthed of a perpetual thought.

"Elizaveta?"

"Oh, yes?" That shining hair flew around her as she turned to her new company. "Hello, Toris. How did you sleep?"

"I slept fairly well. How about you?"

"I slept just fine." The spot next to her was given a form tap. Come sit with me. I need someone to talk to.

So Toris assumed his place.

"I wished to speak with you yesterday, but Feliks had so much to say in so little time. How have you been? Well?"

"I've been…I don't know I've been. I'm a bit surprised I'm aware of which day of the week it is. It's been mundane. _I've_ been mundane. But I'm quite happy to see you, Elizaveta."

"Oh, Toris. I'm sorry. I_ wish_ my life was mundane. Too much nonsense."

"Well, what's all this 'nonsense'?"

The woman remained silent, contemplation scratching a hole within that painting, heavy consideration about her face. Tarnishing it; adding on wretched years in mere minutes. "I'm not sure how to put it; I would hate to put another down, but damn it, this had been trapped in my heart so long…"

"Is it Roderich?"

Time seemed to freeze.

"Yes. Yes it is, Toris." Elizaveta regarded her other with heavy eyes, as though the holder had not slept in vindictive months. Such a sudden change.

"Well…I know we haven't known one another for very long, but I won't tell a soul if you simply need to speak. I understand that talking about the things that bother us can help immensely."

"Yes, you're right" Elizaveta's hands weaved together."It's just…"

"It's a secret?"

"Yes. Somewhat."

"Well, perhaps letting that go will free you, Elizaveta."

A grin, and the darling thing fell into a gaping hole of thought, her expression strewn with emotion and a kind if sorrow that could not truly be identified _as_ sorrow. It was solemn and it was miserable. But it was not sorrow. "Do you promise not to tell anyone, Toris?"

"Of course! You gave my absolute word. I never gossip. Never. Not even with Feliks."

The Lithuanian was given a melancholy curl and that woman began. "Well. To begin, most of the rumors about me are true. Roderich is in love with me and for a short while, I believed I was in love with him. But I'm beginning to learn that I'm not. Not at all. He's very gentlemanly, but goodness, I've never seen a more formal and reserved person in my life." Brows furrowed. "It's true that I was pregnant for a time, but I miscarried at two and half months. Part of me was relieved and other part was terribly sad. Roderich was upset as well, as it's to be expected. But after that, he began to act as though he owned me; that I was his doll and no other man could glance at me without angering him. And I hate it. I hate _him_ for having such an idea. I can take care of myself. My arms aren't broken, and I'm not stupid and defenseless. Regardless, tensions have been growing between us- a fire that simply keeps on building on and on and on. It's horrid. I think…I think it truly became the worse when I had something of an affair with Gilbert Weillschmidt."

Toris' heart stopped in his chest.

"Roderich didn't actually find out, and it was only once. But its' almost as though he's aware _subconsciously. _At least he suspects me of making love to another man. When he confronted me of it, I lied. I told him I could not stand Mr. Weillschmidt and it was mere coincidence that we had disappeared from that gathering at the very same time. I told him I was off, thinking to myself, and I had no inkling of where Gilbert was. He didn't seem convinced, but I don't care. Roderich doesn't trust anyone at all. It wouldn't matter if I was telling him the absolute truth; he still wouldn't believe me."

The atmosphere was still. Even the wind and the chirping birds had stopped to listen to Elizaveta's crux.

"It all went downhill from there. Whenever we argue- and we argue quite frequently- Roderich calls me a whore. He hardly touches me any longer and we are unhappy together, even though I'm certain he still loves me. When we're not clawing at each other like bears, there's a very gentle look in his eyes for me. Even so, I don't feel the same for him. One can't force themselves to love."

"No, they can't."

That muse eased speaking, but only for a minute.

"Do you think ill of me now, Toris? After everything I've told you?" There was a genuine concern screaming through those emerald gems.

"No, Elizaveta. I don't…It's not right to sleep with another when you mean so much to someone, but you _don't_ belong to Roderich. You don't belong to any man what-so-ever. For him to expect such a privilege, to say he owns an _entire_ person, is simply moronic. Much less, someone that doesn't love him to begin with. Roderich isn't a king. He's simply an Austrian with a nice home. The only people who should feel obligated to listen to him are the servants he employed, not you, who have the same rank in another place. It seems to me like you do all the listening while Roderich does all the speaking. And that's horribly unfair. How can you be expected to love a man who treats you in such a manner? I can hardly blame you for seeking something else, Elizaveta. I'm certain that if I was in the same position, I would be doing the very same things…Roderich doesn't have a right to make you unhappy."

After a few seconds of quiet born into solace, Elizaveta embraced her counterpart, holding him dearly as a companion would to a dear friend she had not seen in years.

Then, Toris lost his mind within that opportunity and pressed his lips to hers. Elizaveta did not protest in the least. Instead, that bit of passion was accepted whole-heartedly and their hidden bond deepened.

Jaws dropped and tongues wound together, intertwining, knotting, and neither put an end to that sugared event. It was almost as though each party was thinking the exact same thought, and it only took a bare spark to trigger that explosion.

Then, so suddenly, it was over, and the strange pair simply regarded one another, grip still in effect.

"I'm sorry, Toris."

"Why are you apologizing?"

No answer.

So they wallowed within that peace.

It seemed to be hours before any word was spoken, when in actuality, it was only minutes.

"You're beautiful, Elizaveta."

"So are you, Toris. Thank you for listening."

"Of course."

Of course. He did not have a choice.

The pair sat amongst one another until they were required to move. Feliks would wake up soon. And he would find them.

We could not have _that._

No. No. Not at all.

The day progressed in sugared stares and secrets made up of gold. Elizaveta and Toris were bound and nothing more could be done to prevent their coming friendship.

It was the beginning of the end.


	24. Chapter 24

Toris was awakened by another body at his side. At first, he suspected that corpse to be Feliks, but then those thirsty eyes were met with utter surprise.

"Elizaveta?" He had to touch her arm to make certain that wondrous dream was not a hallucination. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, nothing I just-"A slight breath. "I don't know what I'm doing here, Toris. I simply felt so alone. Do you want me to go? I'm sorry to wake you."

"No, no. Please. You can stay if you like. I was simply shocked, that's all."

"Oh, thank you…." The lovely thing joined the happily surprised man beneath those covers, her chest pressing to his own.

Well, goodness, that was certainly different.

With a certain rush of blood to that once pale visage, the Lithuania took his pretty muse into an embrace, being as soft as he possibly could. "Is this what you wanted, Elizaveta?"

There was a certain degree of silence.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No. no. After all, I came in here. I'm simply-well. I'm sorry to act so promiscuously. I need this…" A soft kiss.

And Toris allowed that mouth to respond. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course."

"Would you-" The syllables were caught, each one shaped like a blade. "Would you like to make love? Pleas don't be upset; it only seems that-Oh. I'm an idiot."

"Not at all; Toris, I do want you. I simply wasn't certain how to ask for such a thing, you see. I'm growing a bit desperate-it's been months. Do you think badly of me?"

"Of course not! I can hardly blame you. It's difficult to be unloved for such a long time."

"Thank you, Toris." Elizaveta left the sheets a moment and removed her night gown, leaving her form utterly nude. Then she turned and stood, allowing her new lover to look upon her flesh. There was still something quite shy about her, which made those features even softer.

It was difficult for the poor man not to spring from his place.

But he did manage to get up and accomplish the same feat.

Then they stared at one another.

How fortunate Toris was that the bruises Feliks had left all about his hide had faded. All those ugly little love bites and hideous purple marks. He doubted she could see them even if they lingered. The light was far too dim.

The two drew toward one another.

Then their mouths tied together while palms sought out all those little sensitive areas. They touched one another's' chests, thighs, bottoms and finally, those joyous fields that held so much desire within them.

Elizaveta was already soaking wet. She must have arrived in that state. That is why she made herself a visitor. The poor thing must have been contemplating this every last night she was here. Toris could imagine her, writhing beneath those clammy covers, fondling herself, lifting that silky night gown and dipping numerals deep into that flooding cavern. Moaning. Messaging those most sensitive areas.

Toris suffered through the same virus.

Already he was quite firm.

"Oh, Toris." The man was allowing those fingers in quite deeply, sliding in and out, making the poor doll's state even more unbearable. Elizaveta could not even function. Her grasp simply suckled upon the opposite's shoulder, rendered completely hopeless.

And it was alright. The man was perfectly content simply discovering all those pretty little weaknesses.

"Ahh…"

"Do you like this, Elizaveta?"

"Yes…" A gasp. "Yes. I love it."

"Tell me, does Roderich ever lick between your legs?"

"Ah!" The woman had to bite her bottom lip. Toris had found a group of nerves. "No. He doesn't like to do it." A soft cry.

Those digits were removed. "Please, go sit on the bed."

That's exactly what Elizaveta did, her thighs spread and her sights drowning in pleasure. Sweetly, Toris rested his palms upon her smooth flesh and allowed his tongue to that lonesome opening. His lips drew kisses all about that garden, and finally, that organ sank inside, gaining an immediate response from his counterpart.

"Oh, Toris…" Her jaw dropped. "_Oh Toris…_"

She was pulsing.

And with each pulse, words were screamed. The thoughts shouted even louder.

I don't belong to Roderich.

I don't belong to Roderich.

_I don't belong to Roderich. _

"Shh…" Toris laughed, lapping at that pink pearl. "You'll wake everyone, darling."

"I'm sorry…" A set of fingers touched to that scalp of oaken hair. "I'm sorry…" A moan. "You're just incredible."

The Lithuanian kissed those inner lips.

For a mere second, he felt incredible sorry for his sugared muse. Something very grave and very certain told him Miss Elizaveta hardly got what she wanted. Those gowns and silks and gems seemed to bind her to a life to terrible protocol and luxurious expectation. She seemed far more natural within _this _state. No longer shackled to the standards others required her to uphold. No longer suffocated by tightly wound ribbons and hair pins. Elizaveta was simply herself. And she was beautiful that way. Even more so than usual.

"Toris…Ah. Thank you."

"Of course.

It was sublime, this act. This passion neither was supposed to hold for one another. All that mangled and hackneyed build-up had dissipated and that cruel wait had been abolished.

Another shameless exclamation from the woman.

"Toris, I'll finish-"

So that pleasure was put to an end.

"I want you."

"Are you ready? Do you want me to do anything to you?"

"No." A mere kiss to Elizaveta's thigh. "I only want you." He had desired her so very long, that member hardly needed attention. Hunger was far too strong to be kept at bay any longer. "Are you ready?"

"Yes…"

Toris mounted that bed and gently pressed the head of his cock to the angel's cavern, the shaft sinking in, and either releasing a mere portion of their euphoria.

It was for too late now. They could not take it back. There was no hurrying to the beginning. It was over; it might as well have been.

So the Lithuanian fucked his princess. He fucked her. He made lover to her. He took her. Whatever you wish to label it.

And he was so kind, so very loving. Exactly, how he _never_ donned sex to the Polish monster. That blood had converted to mere emotion, that corpse possessed by all its heart's bitter and sad longings.

The blessed day had finally been dropped inside those destitute grips.

Tonight. Tonight belonged to him. And tonight belonged to her.

It was theirs and theirs alone.

It was not Roderich's. It was not Feliks'.

It was only theirs.

"Aaah! Ah…" Elizaveta held to the man's shoulder blades, nails sinking into pliable skin. Pleasure coursed through out either of their veins, taking their cruxes and their nerves as hostages and threatening to slaughter them in cold blood. But neither seemed to care.

Toris simply worked those hips and Elizaveta accepted that movement, yelling silently, attempting to stifle those loud bursts of ecstasy. It was wonderful, to have another body after so very long.

"Elizaveta…"

Those zeniths beat together, blood became a single stream. Arms bonded and the explosion engulfed the entire room. They were one. But only for a moment.

The Hungarian finished and then the Lithuanian, those figures falling apart and landing against the love stained sheets lining that knotted plain. Their hands connected. Knuckles kissed in a melting kind of joy, and in bare seconds, orbs met lids.

"Thank you, Toris."

"The same to you, Elizaveta." An embrace.

And for several long and blissful minutes, tongues tied.

"Toris, I should go."

"No…Please stay."

"I don't want to cause a commotion in the morning."

It would be better if we forgot this happened.

Elizaveta kissed her brief lover upon the lips, allowing her touch to adhere to that burning cheek. "Perhaps I'll see you again before I leave. Sleep well, sweetheart."

"Sleep well, Elizaveta."

Toris experienced the best of dreams that night. It was immaculate.

Oh happiness. That was new.


	25. Chapter 25

Elizaveta stood at the door with her bags packed and her heart glowing inside her eyes. The carriage had arrived, leaving everyone within that manor to a state of mild depression.

Toris and Feliks had said their good-byes.

"Thank you so much for coming to visit us darling." The Polish man left a kiss upon her cheek, as did the brunette.

"Thank you for coming, Elizaveta."

"Of course. Thank you both for having me." The gorgeous thing embraced her companions; then she donned the good-byes and slipped through that grand porthole, a few servants carrying her luggage.

And from that point on, every single visit followed the exact same pattern.

Elizaveta would arrive. She would speak to Feliks. She would find Toris within his chamber and they would make love. Night after night after night. The greatest part was that blond did not even suspect either if them of such activities. He never heard them. He never saw them.

God, it became so simple.

And due to Elizaveta's much needed arrivals, Toris' terrible itch was finally allowed to be scratched.

Thanks to this cease of constant and violent suffering, the Lithuanian could finally tolerate his silly counterpart. It was almost as it used to be. Spontaneous kisses within the hallways. Love made frequently. More affection shared between the two.

Life had become less mundane.

It was hardly mundane at all.

Feliks would frequently ask the Lithuanian what made him so content all so suddenly, usually wrapped around him sweetly during the night, kissing those pink cheeks and lapping at that warmed skin.

"Oh, it's nothing." He would say. "It only helps to break up all that work from time to time." Then a press would be donated in return.

"Do you enjoy Elizaveta's visits?"

"Yes, I do."

"I think she likes to spend time with you, Toris." A palm settling into the lonesome nook of the man's neck. "I know I do."

"I'm certain she likes you more, Feliks." Those words were so very ironic, it was laughable. "After all, you're the reason why she keeps returning."

"What makes you say that?"

"The both of you are such dear friends. Elizaveta and I hardly know one another."

"Oh Toris, you're just too much."

"Well, even if that is the case, I'm still certain she adores your company. It's not as though our relationship tarnishes yours, darling."

"No. It's quite harmonious when she visits. No conflict what-so-ever."

"Yes. Our time amongst one another is very nice." Feliks shut those bright green eyes. "I'm sleepy, love. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, Feliks."

Yes. That was what their life had become. A beautiful castle built upon bricks of manure. Nothing about it was correct. Nothing at all.

Toris did not even feel guilt for their circumstances. His lying came naturally as breath and the man could pretend as well as a renowned actor. He might as well have been paid to do so.

Well, this new and faux happiness did have certain benefits.

The entire mansion was kept in a state of peace.

However there were the rare times when Toris' mind became overrun with the thoughts of what exactly he was committing. It was not exactly repentance. Heavens no. But it was a deep and abysmal contemplation.

What if Toris managed to be caught?

What if Elizaveta had become pregnant?

What if that stupid Austrian already knew?

What would become of them all?

It was a myriad of cruel questions that never seemed to be alleviated. In those short and few brooding silences, they rained as a plethora with no signs of ceasing or letting up. Something about it was mental torture. The unfaithful brunette wound himself into t tight circles, tying limbs into knots and becoming a condensed ball of writhing mass. What was to be done?

He was not willing to murder his affair.

That stupid creature was convinced he was in love.

What a joke.

So, it would go on until something or other put an end to that putrid dance of sex and thought. In a way, Toris felt a pulpy sort of remorse for his actions, but that sentiment was so convoluted and incorrect, it was hardly even to be granted a definite title.

It did not even occur to him that he was being used.

Nor, that he was using that willing doll.

No. None of that blatant dysfunction was acknowledged. It was all brushed beneath the heavy fur rug, shaped as a boulder and festering as a tumor.

When would someone trip over that mess? Stumble upon it and lift the edges of that ruined cover?

How long could it truly be?

Well, as of now that building concern and avalanche of lies was not a problem. Toris could sleep peacefully and that was all that mattered.

Unfortunately, karma tends to strike with a dagger.

And she does not carry mercy.


	26. Chapter 26

The lovely harlot had come back again. And because she had, Feliks took notice to the level excitement Toris had for such an event. He was joyous; ecstatic, even. And that simply didn't seem correct.

Toris was glowing; not the sort of glow that was silent for the all too usual.

"Toris, have you been sleeping with Elizaveta?"

Hot blood grew cold.

"Darling, what would make you ask such a thing?" Toris' heart began to speed up, kicking at his ribcage. But he managed to mask the sensation.

"You seem too happy for something like _another_ visit from Elizaveta. She comes so often it seems as though her arrival would be somewhat commonplace. However, it's almost as though it's her first time coming here simply because you're so blissful. Like you're excited to meet a new person. It's off; to say the least."

"Oh Feliks. That's not odd. I'm just ecstatic to leave my work for a couple of days. Perhaps it's not so much Elizaveta herself but the rest she brings me when she arrives. If it were any other guest, I might feel the very same thing."

Feliks regarded his opposite a very long while, chewing upon what he was just fed.

"Please, Feliks. I wouldn't do that to you."

The blond came nearer to his dear Toris, his dear _lying _Toris, and placed a slight grip upon chin, staring into his eyes. Their gazes tied together, and it was almost as tough Feliks could read all of those thoughts, written down in perfect font and size.

"Are you lying to me?"

The Lithuanian stared for brief seconds. "No."

Then the grip was released.

"I believe you. I'm sorry to make you so uneasy. It's just been sitting at the back of my mind for quite a while."

"Oh, Feliks. You could have told me." The Polish man was given a kiss upon the cheek. "I wish you would have, if it was bothering you."

"Thank you, Love." Feliks left a mark in return. "Well, I'm going to bed now. I'll see you there whenever you arrive."

"Yes. I was going to read for a little while. I hope you don't wait up for me."

Sweetened presses joined together in good-night and that pair separated.

That was close.

That was very close.

Toris took a sigh of relief, when his companion was far from ear shot. A bit of cool sweat had gathered at the nape of his neck; his lips had gone dry.

Yes, he would go sit in the library but he would not read. Toris would calm himself before his heart began to panic. Thought would slash him like a dagger had he not allowed that mind to alleviate each of those terrible considerations.

Elizaveta arrived a few days later.

As usual, she kissed either upon the cheek.

"Hello, Elizaveta."

"Hello, Feliks. Hello, Toris." She took either of their hands softly, a warm smile written all about her visage. "Thank you for allowing me to visit again. You're both so sweet. I would love for either of you to come visit me someday, if you like."

"Oh you're too kind, Elizaveta." Another kiss upon the cheek."Well, we know where you want to stay." Feliks offered a petit smile. "The servants will take your bags. Until then, we should all go talk over tea."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful."

So they went inside one of those lavish little chambers and spoke as their tea was poured. It seemed that Feliks had so much to say.

"Oh, I love your hair Elizaveta."

"Do you? I thought it could have been a bit much."

"I do! Goodness, I'm jealous. Mine is so straight and boring…"

"But it's not!"

Simply two women jabbering away. Toris was willing to go to sleep. On a few occasions, he almost did.

He was awakened by Elizaveta's laughter.

"Goodness, we're boring Toris."

Feliks held mirth as well. "I'm sorry, Toris. Would you like to do something else?"

"No, no. I couldn't fathom being so rude. I'm sorry. For some reason, I feel exhausted."

"We wouldn't be offended if you wished to sleep. We'll probably continue talking for quite awhile. Perhaps it's all this tea that's making me drowsy."

"No please."

Either simply stared at their companion.

"Do you want me to go? It's quite alright if you need some privacy."

"It's not about that, Toris…" Feliks touched his opposite's knuckles. "We'd rather have you well rather than in that odd vegetable state." A bit of joy. "Do whatever you like. We won't be offended either way."

"Well, alright. I'll go." The man rose from chair. "I'll see you both a little bit later."

"We'll see you, dear." Elizaveta waved to that sweet little liar, and the women were left to their drivel.

Toris went to his chamber, but the man did not lie amongst those dreams, nor did he even shut those hackneyed lids. Instead, he sat against those sheets and allowed his mind to well within its thoughts and torture.

He wondered what those two were speaking of now that he had left.

Were they speaking of him?

Did they _wish_ to speak of him? Perhaps that's why they had insisted upon his exit.

Well, it did not matter, did it? Feliks did not have the courage to ask Elizaveta the very same thing he asked Toris. He would not disturb what peace they had. However, there would be a slight suspicion. Of course there would be. But that was not enough to send the marble statue plummeting to earth.

Eventually, the Lithuanian man had gotten so tangled within those convoluted thoughts; the nonsense of sleep took him hostage. All of these malformed ideas were nothing but taxing. What had he to worry about? If the worst did come, Elizaveta was willing to lie. And so was he.

And Toris awoke to that lovely doll at his side, in the middle of the night. It took a moment to reclaim that consciousness.

"What time is it, Elizaveta?"

"Midnight. You slept right through dinner. I even came to get you, but you wouldn't budge, even when I kissed your cheek. Are you alright, dear?"

"Yes, I'm alright. At least, I believe I am."

"Is there something wrong?"

"No…"

"Oh come now, Toris. You can tell me."

There was lengthily moment of silence.

"Well…Today Feliks asked me if I was sleeping with you."

"Hmm." Elizaveta let the news sink in a moment. "Well, does that mean you two are together?"

"…If I said 'yes' would you disown me?"

"No, Toris. Besides, I had a feeling that was the case. As much as Feliks tried to hide it, I know he likes other men." Elizaveta kissed her lover's cheek." I just hoped it wasn't true."

"Why is that?"

"I feel bad. I don't like to take men that are already with another. It always makes things so complicated."

Those brows dropped. "Did he say anything to you about me? Or indicate that he had an idea?"

"No, not really. However, he did ask me what I thought of you." Elizaveta was unbuttoning her lover's shirt.

"What did you say?"

"I told him you were a kind and good companion." That sweetened palm sat against the man's susceptible cheek. "That your eyes are lovely. And that's all I said."

Toris pressed his lips to hers. "That's what I would say about you, Love."

Elizaveta laughed, a very hushed laugh, and the pair began to come together, tongues wrapping and limbs twining.

"Wait…Perhaps we shouldn't."

"Oh Toris. Don't worry about Feliks. He must be asleep; he went to bed far earlier than I had."

Consideration. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, I am. It's late as it is."

"Well alright, Elizaveta." Toris slid those fingers beneath her night gown. "If you're certain."

So the pair began to fondle one another, touch finding those common places (well, common to either of them) as mouths connected. Clothes tore from skin and fell onto the floor, as the shredded flesh from a serpent, and bodies kissed one another as those two completed wonders. Elizaveta would moan softly, as would Toris, and those noises were made to be low.

However. They still seemed to attract a grand amount of attention.

The door opened. And then that blond intruder came in, an oil lamp within his hand a look of disgust written about his expression.

The coupling two separated, covering their nudity with the knotted sheets they had dirtied, and everyone managed to stare at one another, speechless.

Simply speechless.

You could almost hear Feliks' skin tearing as he clutched that light, hide driven into the handles with a sort of white-hot rage. Feliks did not know what to say. For a minute, he did not know what to do. Despite the temptation to throw that lamp into those horrible silken sheets and burn the fucking thing to ground.

"Feliks…" Elizaveta's voice was crippled.

"You whore!" The man's chest was heaving wildly. The lamp was slammed upon the night stand near that bed. "Get out! Get out of my bed!"

Elizaveta in her all consuming shame, moved from the mattress and collected her clothing from the floor, throwing it around her and briefly leaving. In a flash the muse had disappeared and Toris was left with the enraged siren.

Feliks simply glanced at his former love, shrinking into his humiliation. Never had he thought that this moment would truly arrive. The bomb had been dropped and the man was convinced he would perish inside its conflagration.

No bother was taken to say words- not even an apology. It would only infuriate that angered tiger more.

"You-!" A furious gasp. "You're nothing but a filthy liar! How long have you been doing this with her? Just how long?"

"A few months."

"Months? _Months?_ How _dare_ you? How could you do this to me? After all the loyalty I've shown you, you sleep my best friend? What will happen now, Toris? Do you realize you've ruined more than one relationship? I'll never be able to speak to her again! Much less even glance at her!" Tears broke about Polish man's cheeks. "I can't look at you right now."

The blond exited the room and left Toris to himself, and from that second, everything had been tarnished. Toris had lost all his bliss in a matter of two minutes. It was cremated, burned and buried. No resurrection would bring that glow back.

And Toris was the one who slit its throat.

There was no one to blame but himself.

At that instance, the winter had come. The room grew cold and what life was left expired beneath the snow in a violent flurry.

Nothing was there to look forward to.

Toris went into a rocky sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

A period of silence began, the voices of either man crumbling to dust and leaving throats barren as a ruthless desert. The sky lost its luster. The sun no longer wished to shine in such vibrant tones. Feliks became a duller blond; the color had bled from him as though bleach had over taken all his hues.

The quiet would not dissipate either. No. It stalked them as stray dogs after meat. No matter where those men went, it was there, laughing, hysterical but noiseless.

The nights were especially hard, thanks to the phantom of desiccated sound. It seemed so wrong to have no one to inhabit that empty weld within the mattress. Toris had become so used to wrapping his arms around that once eccentric figure. He had adjusted well to the rise and fall of another's chest and the sweet sound of soft breathing. But now, all that was replaced with cold and quiet and something quite similar to dejection, but Toris was in a numb state of dull anger and could not feel that depression wholly. However, it was there amongst the speechless air and nothingness.

There were times when Toris did not believe such an event had occurred. To contrast his life before and his life now was all too unreal. Their colors were too drastic to even consider placing in the same pallet.

But there was one similarity: Toris was constantly unhappy.

For a short period, he was joyous, when he made Elizaveta's acquaintance and took a part of her for himself. It did not seem to matter that she was somewhat of a harlot. No. She was not even that. Elizaveta was simply a free bird and no one could catch her. A man would be lucky to have her simply land upon his window sill and take one of those handsome blue feathers. Those who tried to capture her for themselves would only end up with hands fraught with raw scratches. Men like Roderich.

That was why Toris was content. His entire life was lavish in complex and deep relationships that seemed to be so few in number. Always, he pledged loyalty to _someone._ This time it was Feliks. But with that Elizaveta there was no need for it. They were simply companions caught in a comfortable net of fiery lust. No wedding bands of binding contracts were used. Not in the least. Only two souls who needed desperately to run from their tangled lives. One was monotonous. The other was dominant and cruel. And that much needed relief was found within the flesh of another, someone to take thoughts away from all the misery and force. Someone to simply done pleasure and not demand a life time of commitment for it.

Toris was convinced he was in love. That was part of the reason why this break held so much pain.

Now that everything had been lost, it seemed that world had grown a muddled shell. The world was mute. Toris stopped understanding Polish.

However, one day, after about a month of obligatory questions and the crippling stillness, the silence was shattered. Broken about the floor as a statue composed of innocent porcelain.

The stack of papers was thrown savagely from the Polish man's desk. They scattered about the ground as bloodshed and the destruction seemed to explode from that point on. Books written about law were tossed carelessly from the shelves, clattering and obtaining horrid bruises.

By the time that destruction was done, the entire chamber was in ruins. It was a wonder the walls were not in rubble about the floor. Feliks was breathing hard, hair askew, clothes wrinkled and forehead drenched in sweat. Those eyes were soaked with pure anguish. No sympathy lighted them; only anger combined with sour regret.

"How could you, Toris?"

The other said nothing, feeling as though he was watching an explosion unfold and expand. He could not turn away, nor did he wish to observe such a scene, but that form was planted firmly in one place. There was no movement what-so-ever.

"Answer me! How could you?"

"Why should I do anything while you're irate? I'm willing to speak to you. Perhaps even come to a compromise of sorts. But not when you're like this."

"What is there to _compromise_, you lying whore? I have nothing to work out with you. I just want to know _why!_"

"_Why?_"

"Yes, _why?_"

"I was unhappy." Toris rose from his spot. "I was so tired of doing the same thing every day, every week, every month, every year. For decades. That's why."

"Oh, you _poor_ _thing._ How hard it must be for you. Dear Toris is bored, so he can do whatever he feels will break the monotony. No, no. It doesn't matter what his actions do to the people around him. It's all about you, isn't it? Because your life is unbelievably difficult."

"_Be quiet, Feliks._ You know nothing; you exhaust me. Not a thing about you is right. And once that odd novelty wears off, you're irritating. I'd be willing to bet you couldn't spend so many years in your _own _company, much less expect someone else to accomplish such a task."

Feliks did not utter a word.

"Please, throw another tantrum. But you're not willing to speak. You only want to tell me what a terrible man I am, because I'm losing my mind with you as any _sane_ individual would."

A stare down.

"I'm going now. Have a wonderful time damaging more of your own property."

The door slammed and the Lithuanian disappeared.

The next unit of time was something of a marred event. Toris walked outside and he did not stop until he reached that field of red poppies.

He was nearly unconscious, mind tangled in a kind of blind rage and heart aching with all his soured affection and poorly constructed regret.

Without a single coherent thought, the corpse fell into the bed of suffocating red blooms, and the entirety of his stay within the Polish man's home returned as an angry hurricane.

The happiness. The sorrow. The furiousness. The euphoria.

All of it.

And Toris sunk in loathing.

Why did things have to be the way they were? Why was the man given such a destiny? An eternity of protocol and formal torture. It seemed as though his life was simply meant to cause him a kind of dull and linear suffering. Nothing had changed. Always, every year, it was always suffering. Nothing had changed. Always, every year, it was always the very same sequence.

It sometimes became worse; it sometimes became better.

Yet, it seemed the things that brought him joy brought another form of agony. He could not have Elizaveta. He could not have anything at all.

Toris in all his woeful contemplation, was subdued by sleep, and just as he had so many times before, took a confusing rest within the field of poppies. Their sad little faced kissed at his flesh and dreams were painted in a wrong crimson hue.


	28. Chapter 28

Feliks had cut his hair.

Yes. He did.

And he had stopped wearing dresses entirely.

Yes. He did that too.

The shimmering peacock had turned to a lifeless pigeon; it was a shock the once flamboyant creature was even breathing. The colors lining his flesh were dead. Grey. Black. No more vibrant reds and yellow. No more pink. Simply the many tones of decrepit dust. And that was all there was.

The corpse was tossed into the well, his back soaking in the blood jetting from that dagger wound.

And somehow, Toris could not muster enough to feel sorry for him. He was horrible; he knew that quite well. But the man himself was in something of a numb phase. A shriek did not even arise within him when he found that once wonderful golden scalp to be lapping at the polish creature's ears. It was both strange and miserable, yet, none of the reactions were brought from the brunette.

It was the very first time Toris' follicles were longer than Feliks'. That was an anomaly in itself. Yet, nothing was said of it. Nothing was said at all any longer.

Well. Words came every once in a while.

"Toris…" Everything Feliks said was in a dead tone.

"What is it?"

"There's going to be a ball next week."

"Then I assume we're going."

"Yes. Please dress nicely." There were tears lacing that statement. Covering it almost entirely as a fungus.

That event even caused a tinge of guilt to drop within Toris' heart.

But he took an axe to it before the infection could spread.

Then his voice came out gruffly. "Do you still want to talk, Feliks?"

And the broken reply. "No…I have nothing left to say. What is there?" The blond man's throat seemed to collapse. "I just wish you could comprehend how deeply hurt I am over this. It's horrible, what you've done. And I used to love you. I loved you with my entire heart." Those muscles began to contract, giving the blond the most miserable expression he had ever worn within his partner's presence. "I wish I could do the same to you…" The man was choking. "But you have no heart to break."

The Polish entity drifted to the open window and proceeded to sob with tears falling onto the dead ground stories below him. Palms glued to the window pane and for a moment; Toris believed he would fall from that tower.

"Feliks."

His stomach twisted. The Lithuanian placed his palm upon the other's shoulder. But he could not bring himself to apologize.

"Don't touch me." The weeping only continued. "We're leaving tomorrow. Good-bye." The bird moved from the sill and stumbled away to another section of that luxurious home, melancholy painting his expression.

Toris could only sigh, wishing to jump himself.

There was that terrible feeling again. The one he was forced to take a blade to.

Then he drifted away as well, uncertain as to where he was headed.

The very next morning either man silently packed their things and prepared to leave. Bathed, dressed and dragged themselves to the bottom of those winding risers only to wait in harsh quiet as everything was prepared.

For a long expanse, Toris stared into the face of his opposite, reading the still expression that was adamant not to meet his own. Feliks simply stared ahead, pretended the other was not in his company.

What was he to do?

What could he do to make this time endurable?

They would ignore one another to death. How unpleasant that would be.

It was then that something possessed the man, controlled him to the very last impulse and shook his blood.

"Feliks."

Nothing.

"Feliks…I-" Furrowed brows. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you speak to me. I don't want to hear it."

Still seconds and the brunette quickly stole the other within his arms, leaning his head against that shoulder and allowing those ears to kiss.

"Let me go!"

But Toris would not.

"You heard me! Let me go!" The sorrow was again gathering. "Let me go…"

"No. I won't, Feliks."

"Why?" Again, that porcelain doll shattered. "Why must you do this to me?"

No response.

"Stop…" A gasp. "Please."

The entanglement only grew deeper and even more sentiment was squeezed from the dead siren's eyes. His head came to rest upon Toris' shoulder, submitting and those limbs managed to comply.

"How could you do this to me?" Cries grew in their passion. "How could you? I loved you, Toris." The sound then became incoherent and the saddened thing threw his sadness all about that room. The servants passing by observed a minute. But that did not matter. For once in a very long time, Toris and Feliks had entered their very own world, and everything that built its solid walls was their very own. Nothing could tarnish that phenomenon. Not even the legion of others requesting their departure.

They had known what had occurred, but it did not change a thing. There _always_ seemed to be something wrong between the pair.

"I hate you, Toris."

"I know. But it's alright."

Those words only made the dejected one cry harder.

It must have went on that way an entire ten minutes, then finally, either of them took their leave and went off to whatever spectacular country they were assigned to. That did not seem to matter in the least. After all, it was all the same.


	29. Chapter 29

The trip over was incredibly strange to the say the very least. Either man was lost within their very own universe, casting a glance from the window, or staring at one another with apologies and harsh phrases caught within their throats. They were impossible to expel.

The oddity continued when they arrived, this time in Russia. It was wrong to go to such place and have thoughts clogging your vision, but that was exactly what had occurred. The pair barely realized where they were until the carriage had stopped. Then they were met with something of a grand palace and immediate servants coming to take their things.

Toris pondered at how exactly Feliks had received that invitation. Did he speak Russian? Was everyone made welcome into this gold plated castle? That must have been it. After all, neither of them truly knew Ivan Braginski, the man who was holding his grand affair. He had been run into numerous times, but again, never anything more than a fast hello and a mess of polite formalities. If one considers that meeting someone, then both Toris and Feliks knew absolutely everyone in the world.

As they mounted those wondrous steps, the Lithuanian man tried in desperation to remember what Russian he knew. They all had been taught a tangled mess of tongues, but his Russian had gone unused for what was just about a decrepit eternity.

What were those foreign sounds?

"Feliks, do you know any Russian?"

"No. Not at all." The dead man was resurrected.

"Well, does this 'Ivan' speak Polish? The invitation must have been sent in some language."

"Yes it was."

Eyes refused to meet. Then the holders found themselves within that home, a large man walking quickly toward them.

Yes. It was the Russian who had so politely asked them there. Ivan Braginski held two extremely recognizable traits. His height and those cool blue eyes that read every word and cracked each of them in half. One could not lie to this man. You simply could not.

And with a thick accent, he spoke Polish. "Hello, Feliks." Hands were taken within his grip, those appendages both gigantic and incredibly strong. The he turned to Toris, who received the same treatment.

It was rather nice to have those lonely fingers surrounded by such a powerful and yet comforting clutch. For an extremely brief moment, the troubles had been tossed from the window and the liar could enjoy those sharp and terrifying blue eyes.

It was an anomaly, really. Toris must have seen this man at least a few times in passing, yet the only things he remembered were his grand stature and the crystalline sights that broke men in half. However, now Toris saw that visage and was intent to stare upon the several other defining features. Thick and shapely brows. A gently sloping nose and hair kept incredibly light blond.

If anything, this specimen was extremely interesting to look at.

When Toris' hands were released a century later, more bent words came.

"I know you both are likely exhausted, so please feel free to pick any room you like. The party will start at six, and until then you're welcome to explore or do whatever you please." Ivan was walking back into that wondrous nest, showing either man those glorious halls that housed the unoccupied guest rooms. "Well, here we are. Take which ever you fancy. Excuse me a moment as I greet the others. It was very nice to see both of you again."

The pair simply offered saddened nods.

And the giant was off while Feliks headed into the room right before him; Toris took a chamber far further down the hall. Whatever it took to distance himself from the entity who harbored such an abundance of distasteful hate.

They reemerged when the clock struck six, acknowledgment for one another utterly null and dead. They went their separate ways as soon as they met sharp gazes.

With muddled thoughts, Toris found himself within that grand ball room, another flock of hapless sheep kept between those walls. They gossiped and drank, a tangled ball of language arising from mouths and drifting about the atmosphere.

As usual, the Lithuanian came near the corner and stared at that hackneyed reflection within the window. That expression glowed dimly with its soured appearance, such a pretty face managing to look so entirely unpleasant. Nothing about it seemed correct. Nothing of him matched. The silken and tidy costume, those gazes beaten and trampled upon.

The man had been dragged through hell and then sent back immediately. In fact, he was still in that fiery cooking pit and his flesh had only just become crisp.

His forehead rested against the glass; it was cool. _Soothing. _It alleviated the sweat upon his drenched hide. There was even a slight hum from his compressed lips as that odd soul drifted into a haphazard forest of guilt and sorrow. The trees were all complete with thorns the consistency of knives.

Toris must have remained that way for several long moments before his hand was snatched, and his entire body was lead into the crisp Russian air.

Oh my.

It was _her._

The fool found himself continents from the ball before he regained that fumbling consciousness.

"Elizaveta…"

"Hello, Toris." Something miserable rotted away her beauty. "I'm sorry to drag you away. But I felt that-well. I needed to apologize." A gaping pause.

"Yes, well. I'm not exactly the correct person to apologize to." He could barely look at her. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I don't know, but I only wish you would listen a moment, please?"

"Well, do I have an option?" The void within that voice devoured all that decomposing sentiment. "Go ahead. Speak."

The stunning muse held her tongue, but only for duration of seconds. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for what I had done. We had worked together, but I feel a great deal of this was my doing. I apologize for behaving as such a harlot. I'm simply-" A sigh. "I don't know what to do with these relationships. I was grinded into the dust by Roderich and the moment I escaped from his thumb, I was doing something stupid and utterly reckless. Please don't misunderstand. I wanted you. But my satisfaction wasn't worth tearing your peace in two."

"Did you love me?"

Quiet.

"Did you love me?"

And harsh siren contemplated. "Yes. I did. In my own little way; I did."

"Your own _little_ way?"

"Yes, Toris. I won't waste my time lying to you. I loved you as one would love a very, very dear friend. However, I did not allow myself to fall for you. I couldn't. Somewhere deep within my heart, I knew nothing good would come of it. We were using one another, weren't we?"

"I loved you."

The Hungarian clutched her counterpart's hand with her own gentle grasp. "That means very much to me, Toris."

They remained that way a lengthily expanse, all until that petit woman felt the need to occupy space. ''I've gotten much better lately. I've stopped creating scandals and Roderich and I are attempting to heal our wounds. I'm certain you can do the same with Feliks. Give him time. And tell him I'm sorry." A sugared assault to the cheek. "Listen, I'm going back in now. I wish the very best for you."

It was then that wondrous queen disconnected and the dejected pauper was left to the memory of her soft warmth and enchanting scent. When he was left to the moon's dim radiance, tears flooded his lashes and stray cries tore those lips apart, mangling them and causing such handsome flesh to become marred.

All the misery in the world was his, draining, a grand deluge of bitter regret and a heart gone vacuous. Toris wept alone. He wept for Feliks. He wept for Elizaveta. He wept for himself. And for nothing at all.

The woman did not love him. She had never loved him. And for her, the gilded prize, he had tossed everything into the well set to a conflagration. All of it. _Gone._

It hurt truly to think of how much Feliks truly did adore him, and in a matter of minutes, it had all been tarnished. Burned into a sad and blackened crisp, and then reduced to dust. Sad and grey ash. Wealth squandered and bloodshed in vain.

That dejected sprit did not return to the party. No one would miss him, after all. Instead, he buried himself within the sheets of his bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

What a strange life Toris led. He thought this as he awoke with a weight at his buried feet. The bed shifted as the man rose and studied the temporary owner of the chamber. Toris was a bit startled.

"I'm sorry." The man spoke in Lithuanian. "I don't mean to frighten you. I simply wanted to make sure everything is alright. I didn't see you at all last night." That gaze beat down the guest's very soul. But that was not a difficult task.

"No, I'm sorry…I'm not very social. I simply stayed in one place and after a while, I decided to go to bed. It was a lovely affair. It's not that-I was just, well. I don't know what I was. My life has been confusing as of late. I didn't want to ruin your party. I thought it better to come here."

"Perhaps it is better you returned. After about nine, everyone was a bit drunk and the event became much nosier. To be honest, I don't remember all too much of it." A sheepish smile stretched across those lips. "Anyway, I suppose I'm being inconsiderate. Would you like to speak about whatever is brothering you? I'm aware that we're hardly acquainted, but I find that speaking usually helps. After all, you're my guest. It's essentially my fault if you're not enjoying yourself.

Toris thought. "I would tell you, but I just can't. It's such a confusing and long story. Regardless, none of this is your fault; it's only mine."

Ivan looked upon his guest with a sort of sympathy. "I'm sorry, Toris. I hope things become better in the near future."

The brunette did not respond at first. "How did you learn Lithuanian so well?"

"Oh well. You know these international affairs. I'm sure you've had to learn quite a few languages yourself."

"Yes, but I can never manage to keep track of them all. Honestly, I'm sure my Polish is sharper than my Lithuanian at this point."

"Oh, that can't be true. It sounds perfect to me. But what do I know?" A petit grin and the Russian observed that pang of sadness within the other's expression. That brief happiness was wiped clean and replaced by a solemn expression. "Perhaps it would be best I let you be. I was going to ask if you'd like to go sight-seeing or perhaps take a walk, but I'm being rude."

"No. you're not being rude at all. I'm sorry. That sounds wonderful- to take a walk. But this mood of mine-I don't want to upset you with my presence; I've simply been so off lately…"

"That's quite alright. It seemed that you could use something to clean your mind. I'll allow you to prepare." Ivan moved closer to the door. "Thank you for agreeing to come with me."

"Oh yes, of course."

And then Toris found himself to be alone. So he dressed. As those fresh silks enshrouded his skin, those mixed feelings finding pores to inhabit. The man had thought so much, he no longer knew what to think. It was then that his tried mind drained and a vow was created to allow the concerns to dust for only a few hours. Toris would murder them as well as he could.

Finally, after minutes of deliberation, he went outside and found that hired companion patient at the side of his door. Gigantic hands were resting at those sides in a very serious manner, however, that kindly face betrayed a notion that the owner held such deep ideals. Naturally. Those sharp eyes made Toris slightly uneasy, but it seemed to be a feature one must simply be adjusted to.

Immediately, the Russian man simpered. "Well, Toris. Where would you like to go? Is there anything in particular that you might like to see?"

"Oh, no. Not really. I don't know the area very well."

Ivan laughed. "Of course. I'm being silly. Let's just see where we end up." The pair began to move from that lonesome and voided hallway, thoughts filling their minds to the very brim. Neither minded that peaceful silence; however, it lasted only until the doors were opened and the atmosphere entered their lungs.

"Toris what do you enjoy?"

"Well…" An entirely sad look over took those tragic sights. "I'm not certain." God damn it, Toris. "I haven't liked anything in quite a while, to be honest." You would allow them free, all these problems. Yet you drag them upon your back like a tombstone. "I suppose I enjoy reading."

That lovely specimen looked into the sky for something like guidance. "You don't like small talk, do you?"

"No. It's…shallow, I think. Small talk seems to exist mainly to fill space. People share small talk when they don't know one another or have nothing to say." Another bought of frustration. "I'm sorry, Ivan."

"No. That's quite alright."

There was a moderate silence.

"I tend to hate these moronic formalities. No one ever shares their true opinions or has anything of true importance to say. These aristocrats are trained from birth to death to speak like politicians. They avoid questions and give the dullest of answers, the same answers they've been giving since they could make noise. One hears the same thing over and over until ears start bleeding. So, if you'd like to skip the small talk, we'll skip the small talk. And if you feel the urge to speak then you can choose the subject."

The Lithuanian was dumbstruck.

What was he to say to that?

Nothing; there was nothing to say.

So, for a few minutes, they stalked forward in that dry atmosphere, those Russian buildings and all those bustling people, moving in swarms. There was something odd about this promenade within those streets, and yet something beautiful was evident as well.

Toris had only been to Russia a few times, but he had never bothered truly looking at it.

"Ivan, what is it like to live here?"

"Where? In Russia or this city?"

"Just Russia."

Ivan was uncertain of how to answer that inquiry. "I don't know; honesty. I've never lived anywhere else, so I have nothing to compare it to. Russia is what it is, and it is nothing more or less. That being said, it is also many things, one of which being a conundrum."

"I see." A saddened grin. "I suppose that was a stupid question."

"Perhaps, but there's nothing wrong with that at all."

A petit curve cracked.

And Ivan laughed to himself, trying to maintain something of a straight face.

They kept walking.

"I noticed Feliks cut his hair."

One of Toris' sensitive little chords was struck. "Yes he did."

"Was there a reason for it?"

"I thought we were avoiding small talk."

"Oh, it's not small talk. I'm genuinely curious." The taller one regarded his counterpart, a spark illuminating his visage. Oh yes. This man was tricky. Toris could not trust him. Not entirely.

"It's because I've killed him. I bent Feliks backward until his bones got broken and they all healed back wrong. That's why he cut his hair. He's not the same man anymore."

"Because of what you've done?"

"Yes."

The pair stopped moving and took a grasp of seconds to stare at one another, neither certain of which words to exploit.

"I'm not judging you, Toris." Ivan shook his head. "We all make mistakes, whether they are large or small. And you obviously feel guilty for it, whatever it was. Otherwise you wouldn't be so bothered."

Hard eyes were whipped soft.

"The best thing you can do is learn from your mistakes. And hope others forgive you when you make them."

"What if the other person won't forgive you?"

"They will. Give it time. Some wounds take a long duration to heal."

The rest of the outing was spent in serious thought; almost every event now was spent in these aching silences and mental brandings. The Lithuanian kicked himself for not clinging to his promise. But the phantoms were just too heavy to push away.

That missed-matched pair arrived back to the estate, their feet lingering at that embellished door, an uncertainty swallowing them up as a fish to fresh nourishment.

"I'm sure everything will be alright in the end, Toris. It only hurts now because it's just happened." The door was opened. "So don't worry so much. There's not much you can do but wait."

Another short fit of waltzing gazes and debilitating peace.

"Thank you, Ivan. It truly means a lot to me."

"Of course…I'll be going inside now."

"Alright. Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

And that brunette was allotted his own discretion again. But with something hopeful inside his crux, that body moved forward, and Toris entered the Russian sanctuary with a fresher mind and a clearer heart. An optimism he had oppressed for weeks had made its return.

Yes.

Toris would give it time.


	31. Chapter 31

"He's going to tear you in half." Feliks stared at Toris, sitting across from him within that carriage. Cold green eyes intimidating. "Ivan Braginski is going to rip you into little shreds."

The Lithuanian did not reply.

And the Polish man merely beat him senseless inside that focus. There was nothing soft or kind left of him. Feliks was merely a harsh wasteland writhing in fire with thorns left over from the torched roses.

"What are you talking about?"

"You think I don't know? I saw the both of you together. You're a fool if you can't see it for yourself. No. I already know you're a fool. Whatever terrible things happen to you, you've earned them completely."

"Feliks. I'm not attempting to be with that man. I hardly know him at all. He asked me on a walk yesterday and I agreed to go, but it was nothing. We spoke a few minutes and returned."

"What makes me inclined to believe you? You can't be trusted for a damn thing."

"Will you listen to yourself? You're accusing me of sleeping with him when we merely went outside. That's quite the spectacle, Feliks. Street performers have more dignity than that."

"Perfect. You have no dignity at all."

"That's quite alright. At least I can manage not to parade around in pretty pink dresses and pretend to be a woman. I may not have dignity, according you, but at least I'm certain of what to call myself."

"That seems interesting. That cock of yours got harder when you _fucked_ me in those pretty _pink_ dresses. The lies are making your breath putrid. I suggest you clean your mouth out. I know what I am. It's you who can't come to terms with the fact you're a lying whore."

"You're the whore. You would sleep with anyone."

"No, _darling._ You would sleep with anyone. You're confusing who is who again. Unless you're aiming to be a moronic hypocrite. If that's the case, then please. Carry on. You're doing a _lovely _job."

Toris stayed silent.

"Why am I so worried anyway?" Mirth. "It's not like you're actually good at sex. Ivan would be anything but amused."

"Is that why you cried so loudly every time we came together? It seemed that you're quite the liar yourself."

"Oh, sweetheart. You think that matters? Trust me; Ivan wouldn't let you be on top if you _begged_ him for the chance."

"Well, why don't we find out? I'm certain you'd _adore _testing your hypothesis, since you seem to be so paranoid at every turn. I'll put your mind at ease. At least it would provide a temporary distraction from the unending prison we're stuck in."

"And who caused that prison?" Feliks was growing somewhat enraged. "No one asked you to get undressed for her! This is entirely your fault, you harlot!"

"Of course, love. Blame me for everything. Perhaps if I was somewhat happier, I wouldn't resort to such means. After all, you're nothing if you're not _intolerable_. If you weren't such a whining brat, I wouldn't wish to move on."

"You're full of shit."

Nothing was spoken the entire way back. Either sat in their contemptuous silence, staring from their windows. Toris was sick to his stomach with loathing and Feliks was ready to kick the brunette's teeth in.

They returned and it was business as usual. But Feliks refused to sit next to his supposed counterpart. He took all his documents and moved from the room. And after that, the men only caught brief glimpses of one another. They did not eat dinner together; they did not work together. In fact, they had done nothing but catch brief sightings of one another within the halls and that was all. It was a large enough estate, and hiding became wondrously simple.

It went on that way for months.

The season changed to winter.

And the misery simply went on. Either was in a state of constant depression and barely said a word to one another. Toris reflected upon Ivan's kindly words and his advice to give their gaping relationship time. What would it take? Years? Decades? Death? Yes. Perhaps Feliks would forgive the man in his grave. Perhaps he would even be the one to inflict that fatal wound. Stab him twenty times in his sleep. Asphyxiate him. Poison him. Burn him alive. Strap him to the bed posts and beat him to death.

It would not surprise him. Not in the least.

Sometimes, the Lithuanian even expected death with the looks that filthy blond shot him. That face had become something mangled and ugly, blond hair coiling into snakes and the keeper adopting the eyes of Medusa.

How incredibly low they sank.

It kept Toris fantasizing about something else. _Somewhere_ else. He considered leaving, but never held a heart black enough to carry out the plan.

It would be too much of a scandal. But sometimes the man did not even care.

Toris dreamt of returning to his original home. The one he had not seen for so many years. The one likely submerged in all consuming earth and overwrought with vines. It was not sold and the servants were sent away long before his final departure.

It was depressing to consider.

Perhaps there was Russia. Yes. Taking the option he was accused of taking.

Toris could not possibly articulate why the man had been lingering at the back of his mind so often. But there he sat. Sweetly calling his name and tormenting that broken mind. There was certainly something alluring about him; something horrendously attractive. Especially those freezing azure orbs caught beneath such handsome brows.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely so, to imagine a man he had only met once as his very own; to constantly be considering that man who might as well be a phantom of a stranger. Ivan haunted him and did not even intent to do so.

What was one to do?

What could occur to shatter the all-consuming misery eating their little palace?

Toris had apologized. At least, he had desperately tried to. But the Polish man never wanted to hear it; those actions, apparently, were unbendable and the pair would last an eternity.

Perhaps Feliks adored that anger of his. Perhaps he loved to be in a constant state of deep hatred. Perhaps he enjoyed his own malcontent over the love either had shared.

Honestly, Toris would do anything to piece that broken porcelain back together. He would cut his hands upon the glass while attempting to place glue against the edges. He would sit for hours upon hours, allowing his back to become sore and his sanity to melt as butter inside a flame. But he could not do any of those things, because Feliks never asked him to. And when Toris requested to perform repairs, he was never shown what exactly was broken.

You cannot fix a broken bone if the bone cannot be found. The heart break was too complex to understand.

So Toris considered simply allowing the effort to dust; it did not matter what he attempted to do. Nothing seemed to be enough to close that gaping wound. Nothing.

Toris was trapped within that wintery prison, and it seemed that nothing could let him free. Things might always be this way. Perhaps this bitter suffering was only natural.

The Lithuanian fell deeper into the canyon.


	32. Chapter 32

In the center of that horrid bleakness came a missive from Russia. Both languages took a hold of it, that envelope as beautiful as it was bizarre, flesh almost something exotic.

Feliks held it within his hands, those thumbs burning contempt into the parchment. The look of such blatant loathing upon his face could be detected form across the room, where our Lithuanian stood; awaiting the abhorring words that would soon drop from the other's disgruntled lips.

But there were none. For all the man said was, "We've received a letter from Ivan Braginski."

"It's an invitation to another ball?"

"No. It's not. It's simply an invitation."

For a brief second, the brunette did not understand.

"He wants us to visit."

A silence. "Well…are we going?"

"No."

"I'd like to."

Violent emeralds shooting a look of absolute hatred. "Then you can go by yourself. I'm not interested in coming along. Someone has to do the work accumulating around here."

"Are you implying that I don't work? I do just as much as you do, Feliks. You've no right to speak to me that way."

"Oh, don't I? Excuse me. I didn't realize I was contradicting a messiah."

"A messiah wouldn't waste his time on you. I'm going. This house is suffocating in itself. I'd rather be breathing Russia air."

"Then _go._ I'm tired of your presence anyway. I don't need you here. I can be completely self-sufficient."

"You sound like a woman."

Feliks stomach churned into an ugly knot "Please leave me be. If I'm around you any longer, I'll have no choice but to murder you."

"How charming. So civil of you." A pause. "I'll be making arrangements for my trip away from you. Please Feliks, have a lovely day."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Maybe I won't have to."

Toris left the room and allowed that uneasy feeling to build within his counterpart's arteries. He could feel the hate seething from the blond man's pores, radiating hotter than the very sun.

So, all those plans were set deeply into their places and it was certain that Toris would run away to Russia, the land currently wrapped in a blanket of healthy snow, leaving Feliks to his delightful little hell hole.

The carriage was called upon about a week after their conversation, and the servants addressed the man's luggage while he boarded that vehicle. As usual, the emotions he writhed from were both morose and somewhat miserable. Something told him that this visit would be an incredibly odd one. Toris was certain of what would occur. Would he tell Ivan everything or would he say nothing at all? Would they act as companions or as lovers? What was it that the Russian felt for him, if anything at all?

Toris did not know his preference but that was unimportant. He would be escaping that constant fire scorching his flesh and melting his organs.

The home itself was not the conflagration; it was a lovely place. It was Feliks who was the perpetual devil of revenge.

Why exactly should he attempt to apologize any longer?

Months was not enough time. Would years be?

No. Toris would not wait that long for forgiveness. He was not so hopelessly stupid.

If things did not repair themselves soon, there would be no choice but to move on. To abandon this sinking ship and avoid the obligation that awaited them at the ocean's merciless floor.

Toris would not volunteer for the hungry sharks. He had been bitten enough.

It took several days to come to that golden sanctuary, each day occupied by the silence and torture of the Lithuanian's sickened mind; his crooked perception.

No conclusion was reached. But the sudden immigrant was met with a kind of grateful joy that another would finally be there. After all, the snow did not make a good companion.

The same welcome was given just as the last. The baggage was taken in a mess of Russian sounds and syllables while the man in question himself descended from the steps, wearing clothes one would be caught inside relaxing.

Ivan's garments were loose, but they were certainly of high quality. Perhaps everything this creature owned was lavish. It did not seem entirely unlikely. Even plain clothes were composed of fine silk.

"Hello, Toris. I received your response. It truly is a shame Feliks won't be able to make it."

"Oh, yes…"

It most certainly was not. This was a blessing buttered and coated in bright pink sugar.

"He had some business to attend to about something or other. But I decided to come. I can understand what it's like to be snubbed by such rude guests. I'm not certain I could do that to anyone."

"Oh well, it was important matters to attend to. We all know how it works. Papers. Meetings. Balls. It never ends, but I'm excited to have company. Thank you for taking your time off to visit. In all honestly, I had wanted to see you since our last meeting."

"Why is that?"

"I'm not quite sure. But I might have a theory. I'm convinced we'd make excellent friends and I'm at such a shortage of excellent friends, I'll do whatever I can to make one when I'm certain of our chances. Not to make you uncomfortable by any means."

"No, not at all. I'm certain I had the same idea, but I couldn't place it into words. I insisted I come, for that very reason."

"Oh? Did Feliks demand you stay?"

"Yes; yes he did. But I don't need to listen to him. He seems to have these notions that I'm his property or something of the sort. He often makes decisions without even consulting me, but that's…That's another matter. I'm sorry."

"No, Toris. It's quite alright." Those piercing gazes afflicted the guest. "Listen, we've already agreed to skip the nonsense small talk. Since it's been decided that we're to be excellent friends, let's behave as excellent friends. If you have something sitting on your chest, by all means, _let it go_. Everyone has faults and gripes and problems with one another. I'm just an unbiased listener who won't judge you any which way."

"Thank you, Ivan. But I've forgotten what I was to say anyway. How have you been?"

"I've been just fine. Nothing much has changed from the last time you came. I've been working. And when I'm not working, I've been writing."

"What have you been writing about?"

"Nothing in particular. Truly, just poems. Some of them are about flowers and others about animals. I've written a poem about an oil lamp, for one reason or another. The light filtering through it was beautiful. So bright in such darkness. I'm not quite certain what it all means. It seems like one of those pieces that could be a metaphor for something else, but I don't know what, exactly. It seems that so many people want to interpret literature in so many different ways. You see, I'm even trying to get a meaning from my own work and I know it was written frivolously. Isn't that ridiculous?"

"No. Not at all. Every artist wants their work to have a subject and a theme. Poets, novelists, painters. If not, then what's the use of it?"

The Russian man smiled. "You're right. Perhaps I'll still attempt to decode it."

"I might be able to help you…Did you write them in Russian?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh well. My Russian is horrible. My apologies."

"No. That's quite alright. It's a difficult language. Or so I've been told."

"I'm sure it must have been easy for you." Those lips shifted. "You must have been a natural at it."

"Oh, of course! Not to brag, but my Russian is wonderful."

The pair went on that way for a while; Toris was shown a room and the two walked about that home, stopping in one of the many chambers and having servants fetch them tea. And they spoke until the sunset peaked through the windows, after which they went inside and spoke even more over dinner until eight o' clock. It was then that Ivan allowed his guest to bed.

"Oh my goodness! Look at the time! Have we really been speaking so long? I knew we would be excellent friends…Anyway; perhaps you'd like to go to bed. The trip over must have been excruciating. I know I can't stand travel."

"It wasn't so unbearable, but in all honesty, I am a bit exhausted."

"Yes, of course! Please! Feel utterly free to claim some rest. I should have realized sooner how long it had been."

"Would you mind?"

"Heavens no! It would be horribly rude for me to keep you up, especially when you've just told me you're exhausted. Listen, we'll have plenty of time tomorrow to be around one another. I'll show you more of the city if you like. Whatever you're feeling up to."

"Well, let's both decide in the morning. I'm not certain of what I wish to do. Until tomorrow, Ivan. Good evening."

"Good evening, Toris."

The Lithuanian man rose from his place at that pleasant table and drifted to the grand hall of wondrous guest rooms. Those feet led him to his own chamber and that body collapsed upon an ocean of silky sheets.

He was the most relaxed he had been in quite a while. No Feliks to degrade him and no guilt to beat down upon his subconscious. It was not as though he felt all too terrible of his actions anyway, but it almost seemed as though the worries he had had been sentenced to a firing squad.

For the very first time in a very long time, Toris slept in peace.

This instance, dreaming of Russians with beautiful eyes. No Polish men with cruxes on fire.

How incredibly lovely it was.


	33. Chapter 33

They had woken up early to be around one another, the pair once again contained within that lone chamber, having just eaten breakfast and sipping tea while conversing. Toris' mind was free of the shackles that used to encompass it almost constantly; he was at ease now, that heart calmed and that flesh no longer a mess of jolting nerves. For the first time in a very extensive expanse, the Lithuanian was happy.

Yes,_ Happy. _

He sighed in content.

"You seen to be doing better today, Toris.

"Yes, well. I am. Feliks has finally left my thoughts. I seem to be happier without him present."

The Russia man was silent.

"Was that too harsh? I'm sorry I'm just-just _sick_ of him."

"Would speaking of Feliks ruin your calm?"

"Well-no…" A moment welling in thought, accompanied by deeply furrowed brows. "But before I say anything more, you should know that Feliks and I were lovers."

A mischievous little grin. "Oh, Toris. I _knew_ that. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You seem so uptight about it. Listen, I promised I wouldn't judge you and I'm a man of my word. Nor will I tell anyone. I'm sure you'd like it to be kept a secret."

"Yes. Thank you." A pause. "And if we are to become friends, you should also know that I've had something of an affair as well. I usually don't condone 'infidelity' if that's what you'd like to label it. But I was so incredibly miserable after so many years with the very same person, I simply-"A breath."I couldn't stand that man any longer. He's simply too much. Feliks is so loud and flamboyant and God knows what else. I'm well aware that what I had done wasn't correct or excusable by any means; I know. But it is so difficult for me to feel guilty when I've tried so incredibly hard to make it up to him. I've apologized. I've tolerated his cruelty as much as I can, and frankly, months of being put down and ignored are unbearable. I'm done with what guilt I had felt before hand, and now I'm full of hate and misery and what else I've been forced to hold."

"Well, no wonder you were in such a state when I last saw you. Anyone would be upset in your position…" A saddened smile. "Everyone makes mistakes. Of course, it hurts to have your lover take someone else, but you'd think that after all this time, something could have been worked out." A thought. "I know the two of you are required to work together, but have you considered simply moving somewhere else? It wouldn't need to be very far away, but perhaps it would allow both of you your space. It's very difficult to be around someone so frequently; especially when that someone is constantly upset and neither of you can stand one another."

"I can't tell you how much I would enjoy that. But it simply can't be done. There's so much to attend to that requires both our signatures…But we never seem to meet much anymore, or even speak, for that matter. It's a nightmare."

"Is that why Feliks didn't come?"

"Yes. Because he didn't wish to be around me, and I wanted to be here." A melancholy boomed inside those emeralds. "Things simply seem to get worse, regardless of what I do. So I've resorted to doing nothing at all."

"I'm sorry, Toris." Ivan regarded hi gargantuan palms a moment. "It's a prison."

"Yes…It's very much like a prison. A prison with beautiful paintings and lavish carpets."

A silence.

"My apologies, Ivan. I've made the conversation unpleasant once again."

"No. It's better this way; I think. You've gotten it off your chest and now you can take comfort in knowing that I won't look down upon you once I'm aware. I know, and I've actually a lot of sympathy for you. To me, it almost seems like your actions were carried out, not because you're a terrible man and can't resist any temptation whatsoever, but because you needed to get away from something you hadn't been able to escape for years on end. Of course, it's not something that can be written off as utterly alright, but you had more motives than simply being despicable. You were unhappy, as anyone would be caught under someone who seemed to be such a chore at all hours of the day."

Toris nodded.

"You obviously care about your relationship. Otherwise, you would have given up long before now. Who could blame you? I certainly can't. Not entirely."

"Thank you, Ivan."

A stillness. "May I ask you something, Toris?"

"Yes, of course."

"Who was it with, your 'affair'?"

"Elizaveta."

"Ah, no wonder why Feliks is upset. They've been friends quite a long while, haven't they? Not to mention, Elizaveta had got her fingers stuck into as many pies as she can manage."

"What do you think of her, Ivan?"

"Well, she's certainly lovely. And indeed very…free. I might have a hatred for her if I was a person with excellent morals and extremely prude thoughts, but I simply look at the good and bad of everyone and try to understand _why._ After all, we all have our own theories and prerogatives, don't we?" A brief chuckle. "I haven't answered you question very well, have I?" A few seconds composed of contemplation. "Elizaveta doesn't seem to be so awful. She's actually quite kind once you get to speaking with her."

"Yes, she is."

"Were you in love with her?"

A dagger to the open wound, and Toris was required to pause. "Yes. For a very short while, I was. But she made it clear that she had never really felt the same for me. Elizaveta liked me as a friend, but never had she felt the affection I did for her. That woman broke my heart."

"That's very sad, Toris."

A brief quiet.

"I'm sorry. Let's speak of something else." The Russian man had that horrid repentance coiling about his spine, and then he noticed the tears leaving about his counterpart's lashes. "Oh, please don't cry! I'm such an idiot." The larger rose and wiped the tangled misery from Toris' cheeks. "I'm sorry; I'm such a fool. I shouldn't have brought it up."

And it was within this odd scene that the foreigner raised from his seat, uncertain of the direction in which he was going-and was caught within the giant's kindly arms, the giver of that sweet comfort feeling as though it was entirely his fault the other was captured within such a state.

As soon as their bodies came into contact, the sorrowful creature began to sob into Ivan's chest, that figure as the loving mold of a parent. Simply because Toris was so little in comparison.

"You poor thing…" Ivan pulled his guest into a nearer proximity. "It must be so difficult."

But nothing was said; nothing from the mouth of the dejected man. Simply, those lips, in feverish delirium pressed to what parts of the Russian they could catch, causing laughter to boil within Ivan's middle. It was amusing, really. This odd man, crying and pressing puckered lips to that sudden companion all at the same time. Truly, they had merely just met. It seemed strange that they had formed this bizarre bond.

Ivan allotted his mounds to his companion's poor scalp, heavy palms taking seats upon those frail shoulders. Their souls had made something of an indefinite connection. It could not be explained. It could not be analyzed. It simply _was._

And, at that passing second, either seemed to be reading that wave joining their fates together, as their mouths touched and hearts burst as fireworks within the night's loving canvas.

Then they pulled apart and stared at one another.

"You're odd, Toris. But I like that about you."

"Thank you…I'm sorry to be such a pain."

"You're not a pain." A press branded upon the opposite's cheek bone. "Come, why don't we take a walk?"

"Certainly."

So the friends, however it was they worked together, moved into the streets, glancing at the sky with cruxes both wound together and somehow, quite lost.

But it was alright. Because in a strange way either was joyous, simply taking that event for exactly what it was.


	34. Chapter 34

It was the day before Toris was required to return, and the man was somewhat distraught at his coming departure. He sat within his room, having just packed, and regarded those walls parallel to him. So many thoughts flooded his consideration. So much to drown his corpse within the concern and twisting emotion more serpentine than knotted rope.

It was then that Ivan knocked upon that door.

"Come in."

The Russian man wondered into that chamber and took a seat at the side of his companion, also studying that surface, so strongly convinced of its plain blue pigmentation.

"Did you pack already, Toris?"

"Yes…I thought it would be best to get the bulk of it out of the way. I can still go into my bags, if I need something."

"I see." The air grew somewhat dense. "Would you like to do anything in particular before you leave? I'm certain I haven't showed you everything this city has to offer."

"It's quite alright. I'm certain you're exhausted of showing me so much. It's a chore to have guests, even if it is only a singular person. What do you want to do?"

"In all honestly, I'm not sure. I can't think of anything else, or I would have made a different suggestion."

"Hmm." Toris rested his temple against the larger man's shoulder, not saying anything, only shutting his eyes.

"It's been a while since anyone has been kind to you, hasn't it?"

"Yes. It's been a very long time. But I suppose I've earned this treatment. I wasn't forced to do what I had done, nor was it an accident. I suppose I should be ashamed."

Ivan touched those lips to the other's forehead. "Don't speak that way. It makes me very sad."

"I'm sorry." Toris regarded his counterpart. And his counterpart regarded him. Then they began to kiss. The Lithuanian pushed into those sheets by the heavy body above him as those orifices twined together and saliva was at a rate of exchange.

It was strange how they had been thinking the exact same notion. This tension between them- this off desire- was finally realized. It must have began when they first met; when the brunette was first allowed that taste of Russia, now doused in that miserable snow.

"Ivan…"

They disconnected a moment and the straw-blond settled within the cranny of his guest's warm neck. And there was no mind paid to that element of unawareness the men had for one another. They knew it would be cut away and moments such as this were utterly acceptable.

"Are you lonesome, Ivan?"

"Yes. _Incredibly_ so."

"Then I take it you haven't had a lover in a while."

"No. Not in a very long time." A warmed press adhered to that comforting neck. "I'm not even certain what I'm doing. Perhaps I'm just losing my mind, but a nearness to anyone at all seems to make me fall in love. I'm desperate for companions. I would do anything to have someone to myself."

"I know…I feel the same way." Toris embraced his company, allotting that mouth to his radiating cheek. "I think we need one another, in a sort of way. You invited me and I was desperate to come. It's so very spontaneous, but I understand it perfectly."

"You're right. We do need one another."

The pair was quiet a long moment.

"Are we going to make love, Ivan?"

"Would you like to?"

Toris only laid that mouth upon the other's smooth white flesh. And once more that war of fighting tongues began again. Pushing, pulling, sucking, clothes falling from flesh, palms exploring strong shoulders and silken hair.

It began, truly, when they were both nude, either sitting across from one another at that point.

Their faces were a bit red.

"Will you be gentle with me?" Toris drew nearer to his opposite. "I've never been on the bottom."

"Of course. I wouldn't be rough with you. But wait a moment." Ivan rose from their nest upon the mattress and began to dress briefly. "I need to get some of that oil, before we move any further." It was comical, seeing that larger organ be pressed back into those confining trousers.

"How sad." Toris remained on that bedspread. " Alright, please hurry back."

A nod and the man was gone.

In the short time that Toris was alone, his heart began to thump. He grew curious. What exactly had he signed up for? What exactly would this entail?

A finger was sucked upon and slipped between those legs, moved a bit lower down, and pressed ever so softly into that opening.

"Hmm…"

The pain was acute, but the digit sunk in a bit deeper.

"Ah-!" Then it feel out.

Perhaps it would be less horrible with the proper lubrication….But there was no way the brunette would throw that session to a halt. It had been far too long since he had been with another.

Feliks' words came charging back.

That man is going to tear you in half.

Just then, the door opened. Ivan had returned a bottle within his large grasp. "Are you ready, Toris?"

"Yes, Ivan." The body removed itself from the bed; the door shut. And Toris stole the Russian's pants.

That member was grasped within those kindly fingers, the head given a playful tongue. Goodness, how long that organ was; how it seemed to be engrossed with blood. Was the man to be worried?

Well, perhaps that was not important.

That hand began to stroke while the mouth converted to a sweetened vacuum, drawing lightly upon Ivan's cock. The free palm settled upon the larger man's hips- that hide soft beneath touch.

"Hmm…Toris. " That gargantuan being nearly seemed to be ready. Already, his member was erect, his mouth gaping and those grasps being all too careful not to tug upon his lover's hair.

It had been a while for him as well, clearly.

One tends to forget what this pleasure is like.

"You like this, don't you?"

"Yes."

Toris gave a sweet little nip.

And Ivan laughed.

Then Toris sucked a little harder.

And Ivan moaned.

Then Toris licked the head of that swollen organ.

And Ivan cried.

"Ah…"

How funny. Feliks didn't think his former could give this gorgeous man an erection. That Ivan Braginski could not be aroused.

Well.

How very ironic.

"Oh Toris…" A little gasp. "Wait…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Get on the bed."

Toris grinned. Then placed himself amongst those churning sheets and was overtaken by the Russian man, who donated a short kiss to his handsome lips and began to bite that neck, licking and stroking and touching. Ivan moved lower upon that form, accepting nipples between teeth and permitting gigantic palms to settle against Toris' hips.

"Hmm…Ivan."

This Russian was likely very good with his tongue.

Those blossoms were hardening into stone.

Fingers sought homes inside that blond nest as the owner completed that loving duty, finally sinking down to the in between of those once lonesome thighs. Ivan took the bottle, which had been set upon the bed spread and coated his fingers with the oil residing within it.

Toris regarded, feeling a slight drop of excitement. Those digits were large.

Had Toris ever damaged Feliks with his touch? He had no concept of what it was to be the other. Would be enjoy it? Detest it?

As the very tip of the first digit sank in, Toris released a small cry, bottom lips dropping. Ivan was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle with you. It only hurts once."

Oh. So Toris was a virgin now. _Great. _

Another howl was removed as that appendage sank in further. However, the Russian was kind and allowed Toris to adjust to that feeling before those knuckles commenced movement. And, to add to that comfort, the free hand stroked at the crying things' erection, which was still quite firm, despite his pain.

This went on for several minutes.

"Are you ready for the next one, Toris?"

"Y-yes." He must have been trembling.

So, in went the next addition.

And again, the opposite nearly screamed, grasping the bed sheets with his mouth wide open. That wrist merely continued to shift, attempting to offer some sort of pleasure.

"How is this, Toris?"

"It-it hurts."

"Would you like to stop?"

"No. Please, keep going."

That's precisely what Ivan did, stretching out that miserable opening and preparing his lover for what would be much worse. Those numerals sink in and out, creating circles, stretching as best they could without inflicting pain, all while the Lithuanian endured them, moaned and shouted. Eyed closed. Tears pricked.

However, some part of this was somewhat pleasing. Some part.

Ivan removed his numerals and sat upon the bed, observing the trace amount of blood lining the tips of those loyal little workers.

"Are you ready, Toris?"

"I suppose so."

"Good. Then come sit on my lap."

Those orders were carried out and the smaller found himself upon the lap of the larger. They faced one another, those private sectors touching, all while more of that lubrication soaked the Russian's cock.

Toris rose a bit, following all those ruined instincts as that blushing head clung to his opening. Without thinking even a moment, the Lithuanian fell around that member, only to be struck hard by pain.

Ivan, however, found it quite euphoric. "Ahh…Toris."

"A-ah…" Finally that horrid surge of screaming nerves had ended and the adjustment was done. The body above Ivan's own began to move, touch resting against the liar's hips.

"You're so tight."

"I know…"

As Toris rose and sank, the men kissed, hands explored, tongues caught one another, flesh grew pink, and moans, loud Russian moans, sullied the calm air, inflicting it as the plague took Europe. Making the entire room his own.

The near virgin simply cried. A mix between excruciating ache and sick bloodied ecstasy. His nails gripped at the other's snow-hued flesh. It helped to be held within that embrace, to be kissed. To be given a small amount of adoration before another episode of moving upward and downward again. Then the cry.

Well, it was an improvement to that sour lonesomeness experienced on a daily basis. This was closeness. This was a sample of love.

Toris did not know if he admired the man in that regard, but he did not know anything any longer. So he took what he could get. Whatever it was. Whatever _this_ was. And he appreciated it. Any kind of human interaction was far better than the constant wreck his fraying nerves were subjected to.

Toris fell once again, the other digging in, another bit of protest escaping those twisting mounds.

Perhaps Ivan would have said something; perhaps he would have acknowledged the other's horrible pain. But he did not, for he had finished and was far too preoccupied with taking the other's body in close and whining soft Russian words inside his ear.

"Oh, Toris…" A kiss. "Thank you."

The man gone torn in half took himself from the other's keep and simply stood, a bit of crimson leaking onto his thighs with that arousal still raging.

And of course, Ivan noticed. So he took it, standing behind the shattered thing and donning a few generous pumps before that seed came spilling from the tip.

"Ahh…"

"Let's bathe together." A heavy palm rested upon the brunette's shoulder. "I'm sure you'd like to clean up."

"Yes. I would."

"Alright then." A touch to that burning apple.

So ether lothario shared a vat of steaming water, cleaning themselves, touching their mouths together, resting upon one another's hackneyed anatomies.

They remained an eternity. Until the water became cold and their hides were marred by wrinkles.

"Thank you, Toris."

"Of course, Ivan."


	35. Chapter 35

There was no welcome for the liar. Toris came home to an empty palace and an absent Polish man, having not a greeting or even a bare acknowledgement for his former comparison's presence. But it was what had been consistently offered to him without any regard what-so-ever.

So, from a sour reset, the bitterness went in and ran. It continued. Not a thing had changed in the time the Lithuanian had been absent. Not as though Feliks wished him to leave anyway. Toris was not even spoken to until they ran into one another in the halls.

There was no hello. No 'How are you?' Simply the bare questioning.

"What did you do with Ivan?"

Toris did not even bother with the paper thin veil. "I slept with him."

Feliks merely stood there.

"I've truly tolerated your anger, Feliks. And yes, you do have a right to be upset. Of course. But I've wanted to solve these things between us for a while now. However, you're never calm enough to allow it. It's been _months_, Feliks. _Months._ So I've given up. As any sane person would. I'm sorry. I am truly. But I'm finished."

"Good for you. I've _been_ finished, and if I had a choice I would throw you straight into the streets."

"Then you're nothing but a waste of time."

"You're the waste, you whore. How was it, anyway? I'm certain it hurt like hell."

Nothing.

"It's not like Ivan would ever let you be on top. I doubt you even could be with a man like that."

Again, nothing.

"You're not going to speak. Well, I'm not surprised. It's unlike you to admit that I was right. I told you that man was going to cleave you in half. It's nice to know who 'popped your cherry.'" A smirk. "Well, I hope you both end up happy together. I'm sure when Ivan experiences your lies and unfaithfulness he'll have no qualms about ripping you into shreds. But you'll be _happy_ together, so why does that all matter?"

It was then that the blond queen walked away, that short hair lapping at the sides of his face.

Toris was ready to beat Feliks' face in. But, instead of resorting to violence, he simply headed the other direction, not bearing to be there any longer. He would drift outside, into the snow, where no one would find him.

About a week after that wondrous incident, a letter came, form the infamous Braginski himself. It was addressed to Toris, who accepted it as though that envelope was a gift from God.

The missive was a simple one. It asked how everything was and had been; an outcry for friendship. There was a brief explanation of what Ivan was up to and how he would like to meet up with Toris and Feliks again, in the near future.

Well. It was not so difficult to read in between the lines.

Toris answered that note with haste, sending a reply the very day after it arrived, then hoping for the next few weeks that it would come in soon. And Feliks knew at that point, and didn't even show an inkling of concern. Actually, the Polish man had taken to liberation of his own.

He made love to practically everyone.

Well. Everyone attractive enough.

The servants who desired him, the guests whom he had become familiar with, anyone those hands could infect. Toris would walk by his door and capture the stray moans peaking behind that ajar frame. Sometimes, three voices could be heard behind that portal, all whining with Feliks the very loudest.

Yes. Toris had murdered Feliks. Plucked away the pink wings and cremated his corpse. But the phoenix rose again, this time to be an even more terrible creature. A falcon with bloodied talons and feathers stained in tar. He was hateful and hideous at the same instance, always ready to carve holes within the Lithuanian's eyes.

Feliks would appear with love bites tarnishing every section of him, flesh freshly boiled from that sensuous heat and a smile set a flame from the hell fire the demon arose from. He was new, this monster. And within him, there was no regard for anything at all.

So Toris took letters and Feliks took souls.

And that was that.

They simply pretended the other did not exist, as they had been the last several months.

It was easier this way, to be in a dead state. To keep breaking because nothing could be fixed. All until the mansion was in utter shambles.


	36. Chapter 36

They sat inside that field of poppies within a new and fresh spring, regarding one another, kissing softly. Creating an embrace that lasted what seemed to be a luxurious eternity.

Clothes were not present.

And they made a furious kind of love, one crying in unfettered euphoria while the other gave strong bucks, either mouth wide. Eyes prickling with fresh tears of that wondrous sensation.

When it was over, bodies collapsed; mouths managed to speak.

"I love you, Toris."

"I love you too, Feliks. It's been a while." Fingers brushed through that mess of short blond locks. "You're still lovely, even though you cut your hair."

"Thank you, darling. You've never stopped being lovely."

Simplistically, a touch of affectionate lips.

"I've missed you." Feliks settled into his partner's collarbone, a palm adhering to that susceptible shoulder, left defenseless.

"I know you have. And I've missed you as well…It's been difficult."

"Yes. But I forgive you. Can you forgive me, Toris?"

"Yes. I never had anything to forgive you for in the very first place. There's no need to worry."

"No. We can relax now."

So they did. Feliks melted into Toris while Toris sunk into Feliks, orifices becoming one, chests pressing together and becoming glued. The Lithuanian shut his lids, lashes still kissing to his opposite's.

However, when those sights were allowed their occupation, the blond had gone, dissipated within a cloud of pink smoke. The only remainder of that invisible cremation was a rose hued gown, lying within the poppies.

Confusion struck, and Toris looked around that plain, in dire need of finding his flamboyant companion, but accomplishing no such luck.

Then, all the flowers began to whither within the rising heat, changing from that once vibrant crimson to a dark burgundy, then to black, the shade of dense ink. And so suddenly, the whole ocean had come to be dust. Toris was standing inside an urn, a wasteland stretching every direction from him. North, South, East, West. It did not matter. There was nothing but horrendous grey ash.

The roads that was once only a few paces behind him had disappeared beneath the remains of all the deceased poppies, nowhere to be found, unable to be located. Tarnished. Broken. Dead. It might have become ash itself. Everything was, after all.

So, having no other option, the man tried to find his way back, attempting to follow the former path, feet maneuvering through that great plague in an attempt to return home. In hopes of finding Feliks.

Did he run while Toris' eyes were shut? He did not even feel him leave. Was it he who burned down the entire field? But how can one work at such a fast pace?

The Lithuanian walked on and on and on, until he same to a mirror.

And for a moment, he stared.

Those eyes, that hair, blond as straw.

Toris had become Feliks.

It was then that he woke up, all alone beneath his heavy sheets, chest spoiled with a panicked heart. Then the brunette -who was still a brunette- relaxed against that pillow, shutting his vision and sighing.

That was horrendously realistic. He felt the dust beneath his feet, felt the freezing air devour him in one piece, felt the scarlet blossoms dying.

The panicked thing took another breath, knowing he would not coax himself back to sleep. No, no. He was wide awake now. Not a fragment of him was tired.

The clock was regarded, silently whispering upon the wall.

It was three o'clock in the morning.

Another sigh of innumerable sighs.

And the Lithuanian man lied beneath his boulder-like blanket, so very heavy with nervous energy.

He was right. There was no sleep left within these covers.

Toris readied himself for the heat of the hellish day ahead.


	37. Chapter 37

Ivan was coming for a visit, but it was not Toris who had invited him. No. It was Feliks. And it was Feliks who told Toris of the invitation.

"What do you mean Ivan is coming to visit?"

"I mean Ivan is coming to visit. What do you think it means, Toris?"

"What do you have planned? I don't trust you for a moment."

"Oh, I have _nothing_ planned, darling. I just thought since I was making so much love you should be able to do the same." A disgusting and twisted grin.

The Lithuanian's brows dented in a sort of upset, lips scrunched, uncertainly about his lost eyes.

"What? Don't give me that look, as though you're so shocked. I can civil."

"No, you _can't._ You haven't been civil for _months_. You're always playing stupid little games and everything you do has another motive to it. _Always._ So how do you expect me to trust you? Nothing inside of you is fit for trust."

"Oh, stop. You're just being ridiculous now, hypocrite. I can't trust you worth anything either, sweet heart! But when _I'm_ unpredictable it's suddenly the worst of criminal offenses. Well, your Ivan is coming on Friday. I suggest we start preparing."

The Lithuanian glared, having nothing to say.

"Well, Good-bye now. Have a lovely day, my whore."

"I hate you Feliks!"

"Don't worry, dear!" The blond turned around, beaming. "I hate you too!"

And Friday came, with it a tall Russian, carrying his own bags within those powerful arms.

Ivan was greeted with eccentric noise.

"Oh, Welcome." Feliks looked so small in comparison to that Slavic prince. They took one another's hands and the Polish man's sunk inside his counterpart's. And they chattered, as Feliks was a master of chatter. The man could talk without even attempting to stop.

Then Toris was acknowledged.

"Hello, Toris. How have you been?"

"I've been well, Ivan. It's nice to see you again. How about you?"

"Well, I've missed having company, so I'm quite excited to be here." The Russian turned to see that blond monster. "Your home is simply extravagant. I'm looking forward to staying; it's beautiful."

"Oh, thank you. I'm glad you think so. You're too kind, Ivan. And so handsome." Feliks brushed the larger one's arm with a playful hand. "Come along. I'll show you around, and then you can do whatever you please, Mr. Braginski."

"Thank you, Feliks. I think I'd simply like to relax. But you can decide what we do. I would feel terrible demanding anything at all."

"Now you're simply being silly." Feliks took Ivan's gigantic palm and pulled up those winding stairs.

Oh, he was planning _something._

The three traveled around that mansion until Ivan selected his room-likely one of the most comfortable within the entire estate. The Polish man had suggested it, of course. Only a gem for our most favored guest. That's what he said.

Toris was certain he would smack him in the mouth by the end of the day. He certainly wished to damage him immediately. To make him bleed. To tear away every last strand of blond and strangle the stupid creature. That little attention whore who loved to be beneath everyone's hackneyed gaze.

Then, as they usually did, all the men sat around a pleasant table within a pleasant room, exchanging pleasantries while sipping the most pleasant of teas. How _pleasant _it all was; how asinine.

Also, as was incredibly normal, Toris received very little of the guest's speech. No conversation what so ever. Simply, the blond would gabber on and on and on and Toris would watch, partially dumbfounded and the other part so bored those brown locks could be set on fire and he'd find himself happier.

It went on like this quite a long time.

At least Ivan was making attempts to speak to Toris. The creature could tell, but Feliks' voice was indeed a difficult voice to speak over. One may have to yell. And if one is unwilling to yell, any form of dominance would never be achieved.

Never.

Toris yawned, sipped his tea, and glanced to the chandelier above them, yawned again, picked at his nails, scratched his ankle, leaned back in his chair, leaned forward in his chair, yawned, sipped his tea, said a few words and returned to those inner thoughts.

Cycle, rinse, repeat.

Finally, the brunette made a peaceful protest.

"Excuse me." He stood. "I've forgotten I have a very important paper to sign."

"Toris, don't be rude."

"I could say the very same to you, Feliks, but it would be even worse to start an argument with Mr. Braginski here. You two seem to be having a lovely time without my input; I can see that I'm not needed here. Good-bye."

Those emeralds settled against the visage of that guest, who wore a sharp apology within his regard, lips welded into a slight frown. "Good-bye Toris."

"God-bye, Ivan."

And with that, the rebel went, not to his room, but to Ivan's. Well, if Feliks wanted him to make love, then by all means, he would make love. Besides, this bed was even more comfortable than his own.

Almost immediately, just after lying down, the intruder fell asleep. His dreams seduced him, those sheets and pillowed holding to him as the selfish hands of a siren. The boredom from earlier also seemed to be quite the sleeping aide.

And that faux mess of occurrences was chocked with a Russian.

Was it such a surprise who the thief woke up to?

The bed shifted with a heavy weight and Toris was taken from his dreams for a sugared slice of reality.

"Hello, Toris. I'm sorry about today. I really did try to speak to you, but that Feliks just wouldn't shut up." A smile. "We were looking for you earlier, but no one thought to check in _my_ room. You're very good at hiding."

"Well, you have to be, when living with that lunatic."

Ivan laughed. "You know, I'm actually quite glad to find you here. I've missed you, and honestly, I was beginning to think I would _never_ see you again with Feliks yapping on all the time." Ivan's body sunk beneath the sheets, his hand touching to the guest's in a kind warmth. "It's nice to find you here. I thought I might have to suffer through another lonesome night."

"No; of course not."Toris drew a little nearer. "I always make sure to treat my guests well."

Another instance of laughter. "No wonder why I had missed you so strongly. It's due to these sorts of moments." That palm was gripped a little tighter.

And Toris lidded his vision, content. "I'm glad we're pen pals, Mr. Braginski. I'm sorry to be unhappy. I don't trust that Polish man."

"Well, I don't blame you."

"Why? Did he tell you something about me?"

"No. Not at all. But he's never wanted to speak to me for long. Perhaps it's one of those things that one would think nothing of, but I can understand being somewhat wary."

"I'm sorry, Ivan."

"Why is that?"

"Now you're involved in this mess we've made. You don't belong in the center of it. Not at all. But Feliks wanted you here."

"Did you not want me to come?"

"Well, it's not that I didn't want to see you. I love your company. But it's just as I said. You shouldn't be _here_. We've too many problems to hold guests and act civil, but Feliks insists upon inviting anyone with a first name. It's terrible."

"I see, Toris. I'm sorry you're in such a sour situation." That cheek was kissed by strong lips. "Perhaps you and I can run away tomorrow, before Feliks wakes. That is, if he plans to talk to me until my ears bleed once more."

"Perhaps…" A smile. "Poor Ivan."

"Yes, poor Ivan."

Either was going to sleep, Ivan holding that found man and Toris accepting his affection without any qualms. Yes. Even with that stupid Feliks making problems, either could take a form of comfort. It was alright.

For now, they had one another.

And with one another, they slept.

Yes. After months of lonesomeness and separation, the odd former pair could finally be together. How strange. How mangled an event.

But they were comfortable. So it was fine.


	38. Chapter 38

Either man walked into that morning, melting snow crunching beneath their feet, with hands connected as adjoining puzzle pieces. They regarded one another with a degree of affection, lips rolled into pleasant lines and skin exhilarated by the chill.

It was a lovely morning.

The colors fluttering in the sky, purple, pink, reverse sunset. That grand orange ball was actually rising.

And as the men walked, somewhere or another, they watched that fantastic sky, the pockets of exploding color. The beautiful and heavenly clouds pigmented by so many hues.

It was tranquil, neither wanted to tarnish it with the sound of a rising voice. That would be horrendously disrespectful.

So they did not. Simply, they walked onward.

And after long minutes of silence, as the dawn bleached away, the pair spoke.

"How did you sleep, Ivan?"

"I slept quite well, actually." An assault to that blushing cheek. "It was nice that you came in to warm me up."

"Of course, Ivan. I needed to be warm as well."

Grins.

Fingers wove together even more tightly.

"Thank you for agreeing to come out with me." The Russian man offered a kindly glance. "Has anything new happened since I wrote last? I still have to answer your letter, by the way."

"No, not truly. Just the same old things. More business. All of that nonsense."

"But it's been exactly the same for me. It's terrible isn't it? You'd think they'd eventually stop making so many papers, but the minute you think you're finished with one huge stack another arrives that's twice its size. I had gotten sick, and I returned to my office to find the entire thing swarmed with document after document. I actually began to cry."

"I'm sorry, Ivan. Sadly, I know just how you feel." Toris took the Russian's warmth into his own palm. "This life is a terribly boring one. And I hate it with my whole heart. It's the same cycle day upon day upon day. And the only thing that breaks it up is the visits the visits from you." The brunette closed his eyes a moment. And with those shut eyes came the vision of the former Hungarian princess. Yes. The one with such thick and wondrous tresses. The one that wore flowers within her curls. The one with emeralds sewn beneath her lashes.

Yes. That one.

She too had torn apart the monotony.

How painful these old memories were.

But nothing was said of it.

"You're very sweet, Toris…May I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course."

"The last time we saw one another…Well. Did you make love to me solely for the need to make love? Or are you truly attracted to me?"

The shorter regarded the taller with a glance wallowing in thought thick as cement. "Honestly, it was a bit of both, at that time. You're a handsome man. And not only that, but you're intelligent and understanding. Not to mention, calm. I feel very relaxed around you. You wouldn't judge me, even if I did something horrendous-which actually occurred."

Silence.

"I like you quite a bit, Mr. Braginski. You're an all around favorable person, and your company is always refreshing. It's a shame we can't see one another more often."

"I agree completely. I wish we could spend more time around one another. I truly enjoy speaking to you." A petit smile. "Toris, would you mind-" The man cut himself off. "No. No. Never mind. I'm being foolish."

"No please. You can tell me. I certainly won't reject you." A reassuring grin in return.

"Well, I was hoping I could make you my lover." The pair stopped walking and the Russian stared deeply into the Lithuanian's gaze with unfettered sentiment. That huge crux had been held captive within those tragic sapphires gems. "Perhaps-Perhaps I am being somewhat rash. I know it hasn't been the longest of time since we've known one another, but I feel very drawn to you." That small set of fingers was gripped even harder. "I understand if you can't, for any number of reasons. In many ways, you're bound to Feliks. But…" A gaping pause. "Oh. I just wanted you to know." That blue pair was pushing into frost.

"No, Ivan. I'm glad you told me." That burly shoulder was touched gently. "I like you quite a bit as well, but you're absolutely right. I'm stuck to my position." Toris' heart wept within his sound chest. "But I'm willing to be near to you. I mean- Feliks sleeps with whomever he pleases, so it's not as though that matters. I'm just not able to leave this place as often as I would like. That's all."

"So you wouldn't mind being near to me?"

"No! Of course not. I'd love to start over with someone else. Perhaps I'll even be able to move on from this hell hole one day. I'm not certain. But I no longer care about that stupid Polish man. I've given up on that hopeless cause long, long ago. It's been over a while now, honestly."

And in an odd expression of pure bliss, the smaller was yanked into the grips of the larger and spun around in a grand and happy circle, that powerful man laughing the entire duration, stamping kisses into his companion's frozen pink cheeks.

Toris laughed as well, hanging on tightly to his new darling's body.

Then, they fell into the snow and connected their lips.

Numerous times, mirthful.

"Thank you, Toris." More sweet touches. "Thank you."

"Of course." A press in return.

Somehow, they managed to rise from the frost, and they kept walking. Holding hands and talking to one another. Kissing each other's frigid cheeks.

Yes, moving forward. Something spontaneous and new. A flower growing from the ash of a burnt field.

And as that new life arose from the dust, the Polish man sat at his tower, and he looked over his kingdom. No. Feliks could not see Ivan or Toris. But he was aware of what exactly was happening.

He was thinking of destroying them.

Either of them.

Because it would hurt the Lithuanian. A bull's eye painted on his forehead and the man could not even feel the brush.

He was waiting for this new assault; he was indeed anticipating it. But Toris did not know when or where; he was distracted with the promise of fresh love.

It was the perfect time to inflict the mark.

So, Feliks utilized the stinger.

And now look, there it was. Now comes the arrow. Then comes the blood.

Feliks watched the snow fall in little flakes; its small conformity, and plotted. How to get the blood. How to take that essence. How to inflect that soon to be gaping stab wound.

Where, even, to press the dagger.

His face sunk into the cushion of his palm.

Those blond lashes closed.

And the lovely assassin, with a cool breeze blowing through those hay colored strands, sighed.


	39. Chapter 39

They sat, drinking, laughing.

Feliks and Ivan.

The glasses were filled and emptied. And filled. Then emptied. And filled again.

Then there was laughter.

Ivan wore a smile.

"Tell me Feliks, where is Toris? Don't you think he'd like to drink a little?"

"Oh no." A sip. "No. No." Those cheeks were well pink. "Toris doesn't have any fun at all. Never." A bit of wine spilled from that glass. A servant wiped it from the table's marred visage.

"I don't think that's true." A sip.

Feliks laughed. "You would know, Mr. Braginski. " Another drink. "You know, he told me either of you slept together. And I think that's great!" A slanted curve. "Listen, it's about time that man got laid. It's been _so_ long. _So long_. Oh, the poor thing." A little cackle. "But then again, maybe he just deserved it. Oh, I don't know. What do you think, Ivan?"

The Russian man said nothing.

"No. I already know. You agree with me. Otherwise you wouldn't have done what you did, darling. But don't get me wrong. I understand. The Polish man leaned back, but only a bit. "I'm not angry or anything, I promise you-I just want to know, how was it?"

Ivan laughed; he was quiet but just as drunk.

"It was fine."

"Tell me, did he scream? I know you weren't the one on the bottom."

"I don't remember." Those drowsy eyes shut. "I don't know."

"Oh, of course you know, Mr. Braginski. You remember that sort of thing. It's not like you're allowed to go about, simply forgetting. So tell me, how badly did he whine?"

"I think…" A slow blink. "A lot. I don't remember if he enjoyed it or not. He was really tight, you know."

"How sweet." Those green gems held an odd sort of mirth. "I wish I could have been there, to witness all that. Honestly, I think either of you would have had more fun with me in the mix, but what's done is done is done." The blond laughed and nearly fell from his chair. "Was that too many 'done's? Oh, who cares? That's a silly thing to worry about, don't you think?"

The Russian man laughed deeply, but did not mutter any words. It was amazing any Polish could be spoken at all. Already, a few of those Russian words were invading that tongue.

"Anyway, where were you two, a few days ago? I saw you leave. Both of you."

"We were out taking a walk." Ivan held amusement beneath those brows.

"And that's all?"

"Нет, Нет. Not really. I told him I wanted to be with him."

"And what did he say to that?"

"He told me he wanted to be with me too." Another edition of bliss. "Are you mad?"

"No; of course not. I think it's great someone else can deal with him. I sure can't, Mr. Braginski. But listen, you should know he's kind of a whore. Well, not even kind of." Another sip. "You'll be alright, though. I know he'll be destroyed by you if he ever cheats. Aren't you glad I didn't do something like that?"

"But you did." A drunken curve of the lips. "He's so miserable all the time."

And then, either broke into laughter, joy inhabiting the entire room and taking it hostage. Threatening to make the walls burst due to such a surplus.

Eventually they calmed themselves.

"You're so right. I did." The blond man's cheeks had been soaked pink in wine. "But I'm happy for you two. You're going to make a great couple- Just get him out of my hair, please."

Laughter.

Bliss.

Noise.

Ivan almost fell.

Oh, they were the most likable drunks in the entire world.

Glasses were again finished.

"Feliks, I think I should get to bed. I'm really exhausted and all these drinks aren't helping." Something was mumbled in mangled Russian. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait. You can't go. We're having such a nice time." A slow falling thought. "Well, I'll walk you back to your room, if your mind is made up. I'm not going to force you to stay."

"Alright."

Bodies rose and stumbled into hallways, stumbled against the walls, stumbled against the paintings, stumbled against each other. Each drunken step was more difficult to take than the last, and because of this odd phenomenon, more mirth was washing the halls, bleaching them and converting their hues to the most ludicrous of tones. Servants popped their heads from certain chambers, wondering what exactly had happened and what exactly was going on now. They were hardly surprised at the sight they were offered, shook their head a moment (as neither noble would spot them) and closed the door once again.

Finally, the men got to Ivan's room and the threshold was pushed open by the confused hands of either of them. And when they did manage to come in, the bed was wondered to, bodies falling on top of it without any sense of direction or grace.

It was at that moment, when Feliks and Ivan regarded one another, that flames had been birthed. The very first step had been taken, toward the never ending precipice. No one bothered to tie ropes around themselves.

Feliks started it.

His hand reached over to the Russian's and as soon as their palms were touching, it seemed, so were their mouths.

Of course, this was not pleasurable in the least. Actually, why any of them really began kissing seems to be an alcohol induced mystery. But either were so inebriated, the joining of mounds and tongue and God knows whatever else, was utterly sloppy. Saliva coded bottom lips, parts of chins. It's truly a shock they did not slobber on one another's garments.

Perhaps that was the exact reason why they removed them.

The bottoms were undone. The cotton was stretched in an attempt to get those cloth dungeons from flesh, and finally, a pile of insulting laundry was compiled upon the floor's gleaming surface. A pock-mark to the visage of a gorgeous young woman. A terrible scar to the innocent child's cheek.

It went on like this. The kissing. The touching. The customary nonsense that often times went into "Love-making"; in this case, just sex. However, either participant had gulped far too much wine, and before a damn thing could actually be done, both bodies collapsed, erections still standing high.

Yes. No one had done anything more than a mere collection of kissing and sucking. And now they were utterly unconscious, skin visible in all ways with corpses touching one another in the exact same position they were frozen in when their minds left them.

Ivan and Feliks slept.

But not together.

Snoring.

Not even holding an inkling of what exactly had happened.

It was at this time, that dear Toris was in library, reading a book about Russia, flipping through the pages with a petit smile against his lips, drawn into something teeming and handsome. Those orbs drank hungrily of the illustrations, observing the history and beauty of such a vast and growing kingdom.

Yes. Toris was taking a definite interest in his lover, while in lover took an interest in his former lover. The same lover that held such a wide degree of golden promise.

And he turned those weathered pages, giving each a loving touch, and this was done until the book was utterly completed, at least, what sections of he had desired to read.

Then that grand port of information was stored in its cranny, the very hole it had left when it evaded the shelf with Toris looking upon its brethren with a crux bursting in unfettered adoration.

Some men loved books.

Some men loved alcohol.

Unfortunately, either of these cosmoses were about to touch.

Toris moved from the library, his hair tied back into a short pony tail, his mind wrought with the image of the man who admitted love to him. Yes. That kernel fluttered, those wings wanting to soar. Well, what wings were left.

No one in that home owned a functioning limb.

There were feathers, bloody white feathers, littering every bit of that palace.

Regardless, the happiness still shined through those dour clouds, and that cursed Lithuanian drank of it as the dehydrated man to the sweetened spring, brimming in honeyed nectar. Yes. The same wondrous drink that was sought after for such a long time.

And Toris went to his Lover's room; he opened the door and then, then, his heart, once so golden and full of bliss, came crashing downwards. With flesh shredded and blood splattering everywhere.

He observed them, those naked bodies, those fading love bites. That ruined hair. The messy way they had fallen asleep against those covers. They did not even bother with removing the first layer. They passed out without even interrupting the damn thing.

Toris took in that horrendous sight. The cadavers of his former lover and his lover, the same bodies he had taken and the bodies that had taken him.

He could feel the sun, the fresh sun that had only just revealed itself, hide behind a veil thick with black clouds. Perhaps it had never actually burst from the pall. The lack of that glorious rag must have convinced the Lithuanian to simply imagine it.

After devouring the scene a moment, wondering whether or not it was real, Toris went back to his room, trying to murder the coming chokes that were overtaking his throat.

The dreamless sleep came after that.

Where had tomorrow run away to?


	40. Chapter 40

Feliks was well aware of what had happened, even before he woke up with a terrible headache the next morning.

Oh, this was going to be a _disaster. _

The blond regarded the sleeping Russian at his side; he even touched those silvery strands, which had become such a horrendous mess with sleep. How lovely he was, unconscious as though nothing at all had occurred.

Feliks yawned and managed to pull himself from the bed, those tarnished sheets attempting to hold him as a disgruntled net. But the aching thing escaped, and even clothed that shameless nudity. He brushed his hair. He picked the sleep from his eyes and fought the hangover possessing those confused senses.

Then, Feliks left the room.

Ivan did not wake until noon. And Toris was nowhere to be found within the grand castle.

This was unfortunate, because the Slavic prince tried desperately to find him. To tell him of what had happened and what a tragic and drunken mistake it all was.

Ivan did not know if his new lover had seen them or not. But he had a feeling he did. Every night, Toris had been drifting into Mr. Braginski's room and took a place next to him beneath the sheets. They would embrace one another and connect those hungry limbs, stealing touches and occasionally making love.

And since that lovely brunette was nowhere to be found...

Well. One would guess something or other was upsetting him.

However, Ivan was not able to apologize because the other refused to return. For two days, he waited, and for two days, that Lithuanian of his had descended into the thinnest of air, perhaps never to be found again.

But if the missing party ever did return, the Russian man left a note for his damaged sights. Upon the nightstand in Toris' room, a piece of lovely parchment was left, folded, and filled with what was Ivan's best hand writing and greatest Lithuanian.

After that, he disappeared, not even bothering to grant a decent good-bye to the Polish man who started the fire.

Toris came home another two days after that.

He had no trouble finding Feliks. None what-so-ever.

The blond man was sitting within his office, signing papers as he always did, as though nothing off had ever occurred, and everything was simply wonderful as it usually was; there was no justifiable rage or anything to be upset about. No, no.

"Are you just going to stand there, love?"

Nothing was said from the opposite side.

"Oh, come now. I know you have something to say to me. You've only been missing a chunk of a week. You must have been considering your words."

"You're a hypocrite."

"_I'm_ the hypocrite? Why is that? Because I did the same thing to you that you did to me? That's not being hypocritical. It's giving you a taste of your own medicine."

Toris was silent.

"You should have come back sooner. Ivan waited as long as he could before he had to go back to Russia. But he was looking for you, desperately. Oh, you should have seen it, Toris. I was wondering when he was going to start looking under pillows and inside vases."

"Really now?"

"Yes-really. You know, I think he truly likes you. You obviously mean _something _to him." There was a terrible grin. "Maybe you're not as bad in bed as I thought you were. Ivan sure believed you were worth keeping."

It was at this point that the Lithuanian lost his goddamn mind.

He began to breathe with labor.

And then. Then…

Well. That was enough.

Toris rushed over to the Polish man, the untouchable blond, and simply punched him in the mouth. He punched him hard. And he punched fast. And he punched him repeatedly. With conviction.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Five.

Feliks was on the floor, spitting up blood.

But it was not over then. The enraged creature pounced upon this opportunity, thrashing that once lovely face with knuckles willing to be drenched in blood. They hungered for that warmth, that sweet donation from the mouth of the ever talkative queen.

Bruises spattered all about those cheeks, those pretty lips. Crimson touched the blond follicles surrounding the neck. It spattered upon that fine silk outfit; it got everywhere.

"Toris!"

It did not even occur to the brutal man that Feliks had been crying out.

"Please!"

A blow.

"_Please!_"

Another strike.

Those hands wrapped around that neck and they squeezed. Feliks clawing at the pressure around his throat. Legs kicked. Scratches were drawn at that harsh flesh.

"Toris-!" He was choking. "Toris!"

A gasp.

"Please! Please-!"

Gasp.

"You'll kill me!"

Finally, the prey was dropped and the murderer stepped back. He then noticed he had been crying; sobbing, even. Beaten fingers wiped the tears away, red smearing about the assassin's cheeks, washed in their sorrow.

"How could you?" The beast cried. "How could you do this?" A miserable howl. "I told you-! I told you I was sorry. _I was sorry_. But you treated me like dirt; _like nothing._"

There was a horrendous pause.

"And then you take the only thing I had. And you taunt me." Toris managed to breathe. "It wasn't enough before hand? You don't even care about me any longer. I haven't existed for months-!"

The man said nothing more, he only collapsed upon the floor, weeping, moaning, wailing, all while the beaten siren did the same. It was due to the pain of those reprimands and the heart ache upon either side. It was birthed of numerous emotions, sentiment grinding and gnashing in a horrible mess.

With blood upon their faces and palms, the men expressed their building sorrow, allowing months that had been swept beneath mats and chairs free.

No more hiding was done. No more repression. No more pretending.

It was done now.

Now, it was over.

"Toris, I'm sorry." The Polish man was holding his broken nose, trying to prevent the bleeding.

"I am too, Feliks…" And the criminal got up and walked toward his former companion, helping him from the floor and taking him into an embrace. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, Toris."

And they cried once more, and then called the doctor.

Yes. After months of hatred and darkness, a light burst from the dejected sky. It was a small beam. But it was strong, and it was bright.

They held one another, two vases trying not to shatter.

Somehow, they did not break.


	41. Epilogue

After that event, things seemed to come back to what normality there was. The men worked together again, and no more did they fight of what had passed all those months ago. Beating the shit out of Feliks was the best thing Toris could have done.

Of course, they no longer made love, or pretended that they were together. That was long gone. But, as far as cheaters go, their relationship was something desirable. They were companions, and after such hellish time, the former pair actually got along. They ate dinner together, they did their work together; they simply spoke, together.

As for Ivan, his brief affair was forgiven. After all, Toris had once done the same thing.

And those two planted their garden upon the battleground soaked in dried blood. Now the wounds were healing and the crimson was eaten by the soil. Ivan came to visit often, and Feliks did not seem to mind, nor did he try to interfere. He had his own guests to attend to, falling in love and out of love and yapping on about it.

It was strange how they forgave one another, as though the last several months had not occurred at all and either had merely decided not to be pained any longer. Lovers turned to friends, not lovers turned to enemies turned to friends. The middle step had been drained.

They went on.

But not for too long after that.

The day came when their deal-that arranged marriage of sorts- was broken. Poland was Poland and Lithuania was Lithuania. The common wealth was over, after several long years.

When it came, neither was really certain of what to do.

They heard the news; they regarded one another, puzzled, lost, wanting to shrug. So, the government had said they were no longer companions…Well, alright then. Did Toris leave? Did Feliks throw him out?

_What? _

Toris remained a few days after the discovery.

Then his country sent a notice asking for him back.

After all, the papers stopped requiring either of their signatures.

It was a shame to have a Lithuanian prince living in Poland.

The objects were packed, the bulk was sent home to that untouched castle. Toris had been home once every couple of years. Eventually, the time between those visits became wider. Five years to six years to seven to eight. He was simply too busy to go back; there was nothing to be accomplished there except a few menial tasks. Look around, collect all the old letters sent by the confused (which had stopped coming in bulk), hire a group of maids to rid the old place of the dust.

After all, he never wanted to sell it, in the case the he _did _return one day. It was a good idea to have a base back in that old country.

He'd have to come back for something, right?

On the day Toris left, Feliks and he sat outside, smoking tobacco and sighing into their palms.

"It's not going to be the same without you, Toris." A puff. "I mean, how long have we been working together now?"

"Years."

A solemn moment.

"You'll write to me, won't you?" Toris regarded his counterpart.

"Of course. And you'll write back?"

A smile. "I'll have to. The only way to shut you up is to answer you, isn't it?"

The blond laughed. "I guess so."

Again, a stillness drowned in muddy feeling.

"Did you tell Ivan about the switch?"

"Yes, I did. He knows my old address."

"Good... It must be difficult to have a long distance relationship."

"Don't you know about it?"

"Of course. That's why none of mine work out."

Frozen time.

"Listen, Toris. I just wanted to tell you, before you run away, that I enjoyed working with you. I know we went through some rough times, but it was so much better than living in constant seclusion. I'll miss you; I guess that's what I'm trying to say."

"I'll miss you too, Feliks. It's going to be hard to get adjusted. It's been so many years since I've been alone."

"I know, but I'll come visit. And you'll come visit me. And we'll come visit each other."

A nod.

And for the remainder of that duration, Feliks and Toris sat and waited, waited for the carriage, waited for the true split, waited for the transition, all in a comfortable peace. Either had accepted it and either had come to terms with fate.

They knew it would be alright.

And it would.

Eventually, the carriage came, and everything happened slowly. Bags were boarded up, servants bustled, and talk was made in poor Polish by the Lithuanian manning the operation.

Then, Toris embraced his companion after rising; that being the longest hold they had ever shared. Those hearts broke, knowing it would be a while before they saw one another again. Then, they broke apart.

Feliks kissed Toris upon the cheek.

Toris kissed him back.

"Good-bye, Toris."

"Good-bye, Feliks."

And that was that.

Toris watched from the inside of the cabin as his friend got smaller and smaller. They ran away from Poland. He waved; Feliks waved, and as the blond could no longer be seen, Toris stopped, but continued to watch the life he was disappearing from.

Yes. Start over. Move on. Start over.

It happened every once in a while.

However, they would keep in touch, as something told Toris they would continue to be friends for eternity.

There was no chance that Feliks would let him free.

But Toris was happier that way.

They were simply better companions than they ever were lovers.

Even as they broke apart, absconding from one another, they could find some joy, because as time had proven on innumerous instances, it could never truly end.


End file.
